Heart of Iron
by Metal-Potato-Alex
Summary: AU. Brittany never got into college. Santana is CEO of a multinational technology empire. They couldn't be more different, but when Brittany is whisked into Santana's high-tech world, could it really be as simple as two people falling in love? Brittana
1. First Step

**Glee and all related characters and places are owned by Fox - I just make them dance for my own amusement.**

**First of all, for those reading The Stones Unturned - don't fret, there will be more. While that fic is rigidly tied to the show's canon, this one is not. Secondly, yup, it's based on Iron Man. Have a gold star. Well, I say based on it - 'inspired' would be a better word. While I'm using a lot of the ideas and themes from the Iron Man Movieverse, I will NOT be using the plot in any way. So no, Santana will not be getting kidnapped, build a suit of armor to escape, and become a superhero.**

**However, if you're in the mood for something a little different to the average post-series AU, read on...  
><strong>

**~xxx~**

Brittany Susan Pierce was an average young woman in every way. She had a normal job, normal friends, and a normal life. She drives a normal car, lives in a normal apartment, and has normal hobbies. And her cat reads her diary to quell his cigarette cravings. And she still believes in Santa Claus. And fairies.

So in actual fact, it would be more accurate to say that on the _outside_, Brittany appeared to be an average young woman. Who sometimes wears leg warmers on her arms and often skips from place to place.

Alright, so she's not average or normal in any way possible.

Ever since graduating from William McKinley High School, Brittany had worked in her local library. It was hardly the career she had planned or hoped for, but she enjoyed it all the same. People often complimented her; after all, it must take some serious brain power to remember just where all those books go. Truth be told, when she had first landed the job, Brittany had thought the Dewey Decimal System involved numbers that got wet overnight. In actuality, Brittany worked in the children's section of the library. As a child, she had loved having stories read to her, and as many of her friends would testify – Brittany had never really stopped being a child. So now, every day, she would take her seat by the window, surrounded by all the colourful oversized books, and read to visiting kids. Sometimes it was school visits, others it was simply children left there by parents wanting five minutes of peace and quiet while they browsed for themselves, but either way – Brittany loved it.

In fact, the position hadn't even existed until she had applied for it. She had been visiting the library herself, returning a book she had hoped would curb Lord Tubbington's smoking habit – it didn't – when she overheard a child complaining to his mother that he needed help reading a book he had picked up. His mother had simply snapped that she didn't have time for it. And so, having been seeking employment for over two months, the blonde had invented Brittany's Reading Corner. It hadn't been a hard sell to the library staff – they were glad to have a way of keeping the children from noisily running around and destroying some of their more valuable literature.

She had of course planned to go to university, but the stress of choosing the right course, coupled with her less than stellar grades, had put paid to that. She had in fact always wanted to be a dancer; it was the only thing she truly excelled at, and it had been her dream to light up the stage. But even then, her lack of academic prowess had held her back. What made it even worse was that one of her closest friends, Mike, had been in the same position – only his grades were good enough and now he was working as an instructor at a nearby dance studio, with interest shown from several larger productions. It was with a forced smile that Brittany listened to his tales of meetings with talent scouts and the like. She would never state just how bitter she was, but it seemed to be something of an open secret anyway.

As for her other friends, Rachel Berry had of course followed her dreams – Broadway. The speed at which she had made it startled even those closest to her, but she had remained surprisingly humble. They had often theorised that having actually made it big on the stage, Rachel's insecurities had subsided, making her for more agreeable than in the past. Tina had always been less sure of her career path, deciding to help Mike fulfil his dreams first and foremost while she settled on what she wanted to do. As it turned out, she had been helping Mike practice on the same day as one of the talent scout visits, and was quickly snapped up by a tap dance group. She had been surprised, to say the least, but had run with it. Mercedes was currently working as a vocal coach at their old high school, but it seemed that bright lights were on her horizon too, with interest being shown by several record companies.

And then there was Kurt. The man was practically born for show business. Having initially shared Rachel's Broadway dreams, Kurt had taken a less than surprising side-step into fashion, and was quickly becoming the hottest new thing in the world of designer clothing. He was already in high demand, and split his time between costume designs for Rachel's shows, and tailoring the rich and famous.

Despite her bright and bubbly personality, Brittany couldn't help but feel strange surrounded by a group of friends who were either in the process of – or already had – made a name for themselves. Yet there she was, reading to children in a library. The last piece of excitement she had had at work was when a visiting school group had included a child so hyperactive that he had somehow ended up on the roof.

The loneliness didn't help either. Tina and Mike had been together since high school, and their continued relationship was hardly surprising. Rachel had met Finn Hudson – star quarterback – on a talk show, and the two had struck up an unlikely romance. Mercedes was dating a rap star – Brittany had personally vetted him to make sure he was 'one of the clean ones' – and it was through him that her music career appeared to be taking flight. Kurt had a long-term boyfriend, but Brittany had only ever met him once, and didn't even know what his occupation was – other than it kept him very busy and away for a lot of the time. But even then, they were so solid that Kurt didn't seem to mind. And once again, Brittany was the odd one out. She was alone. She had dated a few guys and the occasional girl at high school, but her only long-ish relationship had been with Artie Abrams. Said relationship had quickly gone down the drain when Artie had discovered Brittany's bisexuality, and like a lot of guys, assumed it meant Brittany wanted both a man and a woman at the same time. Brittany was so baffled by how much it threatened people, and had withdrawn rather quickly from the dating scene.

She now shared an apartment with Mike and Tina, though it as becoming increasingly rare for all three of them to be living there at the same time, given the others' commitments. Rachel and Mercedes still visited relatively often, though Rachel would often bemoan the extreme measures she had to take to not be followed – the last thing they needed was paparazzi knocking at the door trying to find Broadway's latest star. Lord Tubbington hadn't enjoyed the move from Brittany's house, but was now settled. Her friends had given mixed reactions when they had first moved in together and discovered that Brittany's cat was only four years old, meaning he was going to be around for a while yet. But they had all adapted, and now he was just another part of their dysfunctional family. Kurt wasn't able to visit often, and most of Brittany's contact with him was through the internet. But they still made the effort to talk at least once a week, just chatting as they had done in the old days. Kurt was of course unable to talk about what or who he was working with at any given time, but Brittany always enjoyed trying to trip him up. It reminded her of the good old days – the two of them sat there in their pajamas talking random gossip. But whenever the video chats ended, the reality that those days were over crept back into Brittany's mind, and was not something she relished.

But despite everything, she was happy. Her friends were still there for her, and her job paid well enough that she didn't have to sponge off of her roommates. All she really wanted was a chance to shine herself, rather than simply admiring her friends' success from afar. But, as such an opportunity seemed unlikely to present itself in the near future, she was content to continue as always; finding the silver lining in everything.

**~xxx~**

Two weeks after the 'schoolboy on the roof' incident, Brittany strolled into work as usual, humming a spontaneous tune as she went, bobbing her head along with it. She was rather surprised when she found one of the senior staff members heading straight towards her, looking rather flustered.

"There you are!" she snapped, instantly wiping the blonde's cheerful smile from her face. Fearing she had done something wrong, Brittany paused and looked around, as if trying to find some clue as to what she had done. "You were supposed to be here an hour ago!"

"But…I start at nine every morning…" Brittany replied slowly, brow furrowed. "Have the clocks changed again? Because you know how bad I-"

"I left you three messages telling you we'd need you in early," the elderly woman said waspishly. "Do you even have your phone switched on?"

"_Ohhh_. Sorry, I think Lord Tub-" She paused, remembering what had happened the last time her cat had caused problems and she had tried to explain it to her colleagues. "…I lost it."

"Well I suggest you either find it or get a new one," her supervisor said, shaking her head. "Anyway, you're here now so that's something." She began walking away and towards the main room of the library, and Brittany assumed she was to follow. "Now, if you'd received my messages you would know that we have a very special guest coming here this morning to sign copies of her new book. This is the first time we've had a celebrity author come here since that debacle with the goat, so everything must be _perfect_."

"What do you need to me to do?" Brittany asked, confused as to why she was even needed for such an event. "Do they want me to read her book to everyone?"

The woman just gave the blonde a withering look.

It soon transpired that Brittany's role would be limited to filling plastic cups with coffee and orange juice. She didn't mind, but she was a little disappointed that she wouldn't get to read anything today; there was a new unicorn-themed book that she had been itching to share with the kids. She spent most of the morning in a side room, working diligently to keep a steady stream of drinks going. Just before mid-day, she heard a sudden wave of noise from the main room, and assumed that the famous author had arrived. Brittany wondered briefly if her book involved unicorns, but she could already hear her boss's voice in her head telling her not to be so stupid. She wondered if she would be able to at least see this woman that appeared to be causing such a stir, but no sooner than the assembled press and fans quietened down, the door was closed and she was left alone, with only the very faintest of muffled sounds from outside. She sighed, and flopped down onto one of the few chairs that hadn't had chunks ripped out of it by fidgety children.

After what felt like hours, the door opened and Brittany's boss poked her head in. "Are you still here?" she asked, startling the blonde from the trance-like state she had fallen into.

"I think so…" she murmured, blinking rapidly at her supervisor as she remembered where she was. She had been so lost in her elaborate fantasy involving the coffee machine's fight to prove his innocence after being accused of treachery by the fridge.

"Well our guest is leaving now, so you may as well get going too," she was told. "I can't imagine there'll be many children visiting today, what with all the press hanging around. It'll give you a chance to look for that phone!"

Not wanting to spend another moment in the stuffy side-room, Brittany hoisted her back over her shoulder, musing for a moment that she hadn't even opened it today, and headed straight for the exit. As she passed through the room, she saw what was left of the book signing; rows of chairs facing towards a table, behind which were another two seats, and behind those was a large backdrop featuring the book's title: _'A Bigger Stick.'_ Brittany remembered reading a story about a lonely stick, and wondered whether this one had anything to do with it. She stepped out into the afternoon sun and pulled her bag further up her shoulder; it had developed a habit of falling down during high school, but she had never got round to replacing it. She didn't want to hurt it's feelings, after all.

As she neared the road, she wondered whether she would ever be able to make it as a children's author. She had definitely read more than enough to know what sort of things appealed to children; scratch that, the same things appealed to her. Maybe her coffee machine storyline had some merit to it? As she continued to daydream, she lost track of exactly where she was, busy pondering a potential sequel in which the fridge seeks revenge.

Brittany was so lost in her daze that she nearly let out a shriek when she felt a strong hand grip her wrist and yank her backwards. But before she could even attempt to work out what was happened, a large truck went barrelling past, it's horn blaring. Falling back to reality with a thud, she realised she had nearly walked straight into oncoming traffic. Her heart in her throat, she turned to look at her rescuer.

"You wanna be more careful," the woman said, giving a lopsided grin. Brittany just stared; she was _gorgeous_. Like, super-model gorgeous. Attired in a form-fitting black suit, and with the top few buttons of her shirt undone, she was nothing short of breathtaking. Her tangled mane of dark hair swayed slightly in the breeze as she released Brittany's arm. The blonde fought to come up with a response; to thank the woman; but all she could manage to do was stare into those dark eyes. Still smirking, the woman pulled on a pair of sunglasses and took a couple of steps back. "See you around."

Brittany watched, still in silence, as the woman turned and jogged to a waiting car; a large black monster of a vehicle with tinted windows. Standing beside it was a man, also wearing a suit but looking far less casual than the woman. He said something to her, and she just smirked in response and climbed into the back of the car. The man entered through the driver's door, and moments later they pulled out into the traffic. As she watched the car disappear from view, Brittany finally found her voice.

"Thanks…"

**~xxx~**

"I think she was giving me the eye," Santana chuckled, pulling out her phone.

"You think every cute blonde is giving you the eye," her driver replied, glancing over his shoulder with an amused look on his face.

"C'mon, Blaine, you don't know the first thing about cute blondes," the Latina shot back.

"Maybe not," the man said with a shrug. "I dunno, that one looked like there was something _wrong_ with her."

"I tend to have that effect on people," Santana said with a shrug of her own. "She's only human." She slid the screen of her phone away and looked up. "So what's next? Holly's schedule speech put me to sleep this morning."

"Meeting with the Air Force chiefs of staff," Blaine replied, and Santana instantly groaned.

"Fine, but you know the drill with those schmucks – drive-thru first, ass-numbing meeting second."

**~xxx~**

When Brittany returned home, she was surprised to find both Tina and Mike present. Mike appeared to be putting lunch together, while Tina was reading through a document of sorts. They both looked up with surprise as she entered the apartment, and for a moment they all just stood there in silence.

"…is there a bird's nest in my hair again?" Brittany finally asked, slowly closing the door behind her. Mike raised an eyebrow, and Tina just smiled.

"No, it's just you're back early," she said. "I didn't think you'd be back until later, especially with what was going on at the library today."

"Oh, right," Brittany nodded. "No, there was something going on at the library today, so they shut me in the store-room, then they let me out and said I could leave early, and then I nearly got hit by a truck-"

"You _what?"_ Mike asked, stepping out from behind the kitchen counter.

"Oh my god, Brittany, are you alright?" Tina got to her feet and moved to the blonde's fine.

"…I'm fine?" Brittany replied, sounding confused. "It's okay, this super-hot girl saved me." She shook her head, trying to rid her mind's eye of that stunning face. "Anyway, how did you know there was something going on there this morning? They only told me, like, when I arrived."

"Uhhhh…" Tina turned to Mike, an incredulous expression on her face.

"We thought you knew," he said. "That's why we didn't mention it."

"Why would you mention it?" the blonde asked, moving further into the room and depositing her bag on the sofa. "I didn't think either of you were into books."

"Yeah, but…" Tina sighed, and shook her head. "Nevermind." She forced a smile and sat back down. "So, this girl. What was she like?"

"I dunno," Brittany shrugged. "She didn't say much. Mind you, I didn't say anything. She was wearing these really expensive clothes and she left in this totally awesome car; it was like that thing they drive the President around in. She even had some guy driving it for her; I think it may have been her dad."

"Wait…" Mike turned to Tina, exchanging a look of understanding. "Britt, this girl wasn't Hispanic, was she?"

"No, she wasn't wearing blue," the blonde replied, taking an apple from the bowl on the coffee table and sinking her teeth into it.

"Okay, but did she have tanned skin? Dark hair?" Tina tried, and Brittany nodded.

"Yeah," she replied, swallowing a mouthful of apple. "Wait, were you there too?"

"Brittany, that was _Santana Lopez_," Mike said, his tone becoming one of exasperation. When he received a nonplussed look from the blonde, he shook his head. "CEO of Lopez Industries?"

"So you _were_ there," Brittany said with a nod. "You should have said hi."

"No. No, Brittany," Mike replied, starting to sound more and more incredulous. "We knew she was there because she's ridiculously famous. She was there signing her new book – that's why we thought you would have known, it's over the news and everything!"

"…that would explain why all those people with cameras came out and asked me where she went," Brittany said, nodding again. "I thought they wanted to thank her for saving me too."

"How can you not know who she is?" Tina asked. "She's only probably the most powerful woman on the planet."

"I thought that was Wonder Woman," Brittany replied. Mike threw up his hands; clearly comic-book references were his limit. The blonde shrugged. "Cool."

"You should have got her to sign something," Tina said. "I'd love to have meet her."

"Small chance of that," Mike replied, turning back to the food he had been preparing. "She's so famous she makes Rachel look like the back-half of the donkey in a school nativity play."

As Brittany continued to listen, she wondered about the woman that had saved her. Had that been such a mega-famous person? She thought celebrities gave off some sort of aura. Shrugging again, she took her bag into her room, and let her hair down from it's ponytail. She wondered whether Mike and Tina were laughing at her for not knowing who Santana was. Outside the world of celebrity gossip, she was totally clueless when it came to famous people. She was okay on authors now, but that was entirely down to her workplace, and she got the distinct impression that Santana wasn't just an author, judging by the level of interest her flatmates had shown in her.

After a moment, she pulled her laptop towards her and turned it on. While she waited for it to start up, she closed the door to her room and grabbed her headphones from her desk, plugging them into her computer. Once everything had loaded and she was sat cross-legged in front of it, she opened the internet and immediately typed _'Who is Santana Lopez?' _into the search engine. Mike always insisted she only needed to use keywords, but Brittany didn't want to be rude. She felt a small prickle of smugness when the first result matched her search perfectly – it was a video. A little too eagerly, she clicked the link, and waited a moment for it to play.

"Santana Lopez," a voice began, and an image appeared of a magazine cover. There she was, smartly dressed in a similar suit – this time with a tie - and with a stoic expression, the same woman who had grabbed her arm that very day. Brittany was immediately impressed; even Rachel hadn't made the front cover of a magazine yet. A caption on the magazine read '_The Mind of Santana Lopez'_, and Brittany wondered just what the woman's mind had to do with anything. "Visionary. Genius. Child prodigy. Even from an early age, the daughter of legendary weapons developer Dr Antonio Lopez quickly stole the spotlight with her brilliant and unique mind."

As the voice spoke, a black and white photo depicting a young girl appeared; that had to be Santana, the eyes were the same. Brittany felt her cheeks colouring as she took in the adorable child. Young Santana had that same smirk, and beside her sat a man whom Brittany assumed was her father – that scratched her theory of the car driver being her dad; this man didn't have the same distinctive eyebrows.

"At age four she built her first circuit board," the voice went on. "At age six, her first engine." Another magazine cover, a lot older than the first and again depicting Santana as a child alongside her father, carried the subtitle _'Chip off the old block: Six year old Santana Lopez builds first V8.'_

Brittany was immediately impressed; Santana was already the smartest person she had ever heard of. "And at seventeen, she graduated summa cum laude from MIT." Yet another magazine cover, showing Santana in her teenage years. Brittany felt the subtle change in her reaction – teenage Santana was a total hottie, and the blonde had to wonder why none of the girls at McKinley had been that good looking.

"Then, the passing of a titan." The image changed again, replaced with a newspaper front page. A single picture of Santana's father sat beneath the headline _'Antonio and Maria Lopez Die in Car Accident on Long Island: Thousands to Attend Funeral in Manhattan for founder and president of Lopez Industries.'_ Instantly Brittany's smile vanished, and she felt her heart break for Santana. She had harboured some decidedly dark thoughts about her own parents after they had reacted badly to her coming out as bisexual, and suddenly the blonde felt incredibly guilty over some of things she had said. The woman she had met earlier that day - however briefly - had seemed so cheerful and full of life, and yet her parents had both been dead for years; taken from her during that period in life when most people needed them the most.

"Antonio Lopez's mother and lifelong advisor, Alma Lopez, steps in to help fill the gap left by her son, the legendary founder." Another magazine cover, depicting a stern looking woman. She had hard eyes, holding none of the warmth present in either her son or granddaughter's. The caption read _'Keeping It In The Family: Antonio's mother to lead Lopez Industries.'_

"Until at age twenty-one, the prodigal daughter returns, and is anointed the new CEO of Lopez Industries." Upon sight of the far more recent photo of Santana, Brittany felt her spirits lift. It was yet another cover, depicting a smartly-dressed Santana in the foreground, with her grandmother behind her. Beside them were the words _'The New Kid: Santana Lopez takes reigns at 21.' _That must have been relatively recent – the Santana she saw today couldn't have been older than her mid-twenties.

"With the keys to the kingdom, Santana ushers in a new era for her father's legacy, creating smarter weapons, advanced robotics, satellite targeting." As the words continued, the pictures were replaced with video footage, showing animations of missiles in flight, as well as turnarounds of various machine components. It was all over Brittany's head, but she was very impressed. "Today, Santana Lopez has changed the face of the weapons industry, by ensuring freedom and protecting the interests of America and her allies around the globe."

One final image of Santana appeared, depicting her flanked by two fighter jets, with several others flying in formation behind her. This was definitely a recent picture; it could have been taken that very morning. Brittany couldn't help but be slightly awed by the woman on her screen; she had never seen a woman so successful in an industry she imagined would be male-dominated. She had her reservations about Santana being involved in the design and manufacture of weapons, but that paled next to her admiration for the woman's intellect. That video was a very short summary of the Latina's life, but already Brittany felt as though she knew her. Either that, or she was simply filling in the blanks herself; she imagined a young Santana, living in her father's shadow, with expectation heaped on her. Then the anguish she must have felt over losing her parents at such a young age. And despite it all, she had defied it and continued her father's legacy.

Brittany was glad no one could hear her thoughts at the moment, otherwise she was pretty sure she would come across as a babbling idiot. She hit 'back' and instead searched for Santana's name under 'images.'

A few hours later, and with a couple hundred images saved in her new folder marked 'Santana Lopez,' Brittany was called through for dinner. She knew celebrity crushes were often mocked, but all the same, she couldn't wait to find out more. After all, who else could say Santana Lopez has saved their life? Don't you know she's famous?


	2. Hero Worship

**Glee and all related characters and places are owned by Fox - I just make them dance for my own amusement.**

**Big thank you to everyone who reviewed the first chapter! I still had quite a bit of drive after the first chapter was done, so I kept right on going...  
><strong>

**~xxx~**

Two years to the day.

Even for someone like Brittany, who sometimes genuinely believed that time likes to play tricks on people, it seemed almost impossible. Two whole years since her encounter with Santana Lopez outside the library. She was still working there; in fact, almost every facet of her life had remained the same. Some would call it stability, others would call it monotony. Brittany couldn't decide. More than ever, she longed for a change of pace; something new to make her life exciting again. Since meeting her, Brittany had unsurprisingly become quite the fan of Lopez Industries' CEO; and that was putting it mildly. The most obvious sign was the huge poster of Santana's _'Rolling Stone' _cover picture that now adorned the blonde's bedroom wall. But if one were to look closer, there were plenty of other bits and pieces here and there. On the night stand beside her bed, a Lopez Industries mug sat. The blonde's old laptop had been replaced; the latest Lopez Industries model, naturally. And above the desk upon which the computer sat, neatly pinned to a notice board, were countless magazine and newspaper cuttings, all related to Santana and her company.

Brittany sometimes worried that it was a bit much; that becoming obsessed with a celebrity at this age was unhealthy. But while it may have started that way, it had changed into something more resembling admiration. She had read up extensively on Santana's background, and if she had been impressed beforehand, that was nothing to how she felt now. Her friends often joked that she would be able to answer any question related to the Latina, but she knew it wasn't true; she didn't have a head for facts and figures. Instead, she was content to follow the young CEO's career with interest, making a point of watching all her speeches and public demonstrations. Mike had once wondered if Brittany planned to attend any of these public events, but Brittany had said no. Would she like to meet Santana again? Of course. But she wasn't going to turn into a stalker to do it.

As far as she was concerned, she was just a young woman with a celebrity crush.

**~xxx~**

"You know, sticking your fingers in your ears isn't going to stop it from happening."

From somewhere beneath a half-disassembled car, Santana Lopez grunted. To the outside world, she was just a pair of jean-clad legs, sticking out from between the front wheels.

"I'm serious, Santana. All the arrangements have been made. I'm just waiting on the paperwork."

Beneath the car, Santana's tinkering ceased. There was a pause, before she swiftly slid out from under the vehicle, her face and arms covered in oil and brake fluid. "So it's not official, then?"

Holly Holliday raised an eyebrow and folded her arms, creasing her neat black suit. "It's happening, Santana," she said. "Whether you like it or not."

"Well I'm proudly flying the flag of 'not'," Santana grumbled, getting to her feet and pulling her simple black t-shirt down where it had ridden up. "Seriously, Holls, I still don't get why you're bailing on me after…uh…"

"Nine-"

"Nine years, yeah," Santana cut in, wiping her dirty brow with an equally dirty arm. "Come on, you don't wanna leave, _really_, do you?"

"As I've told you several times now, it's not about what I want," Holly replied. "It's about what's best for both of us. I mean, _god_, I wasn't even supposed to be doing this job, remember?"

"But you do it so well," the brunette said, her voice losing a little of it's humour. "You've always been getting me out of rough spots."

"Bit of a difference between helping a teenage girl accept her sexuality and helping a young woman run a multinational company," Holly reminded her. "Hell, I'm as good as running it at the moment anyway, what with all these vacations you've been taking."

"Those," Santana began pointedly. "Are not vacations. Those are product demonstrations."

"Oh really?" the blonde asked, resting her hands on her hips. "So, spending a week in Venice isn't a vacation? Or Monaco? Or that time you went AWOL for nearly a month and we found you on a private island with the entire Icelandic Women's Soccer Team? Naked?" Santana looked away, trying her hardest to come up with an excuse. Holly just smiled. "You're great, Santana, okay? You're the best boss I could ever ask for, and you're an awesome girl, but I can't babysit you for the rest of my life. I don't want you to start thinking of me as a replacement mother."

At that, Santana stiffened. Holly sighed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"You're right," the brunette said with a nod. "You're always right." She turned on the spot, and forced a smile. "I…owe you everything, Holly. You never complained, you never judged, and you've worked so hard to keep everything away from where Abuela could see it."

"I try," the blonde said, giving a smile of her own.

"Well," Santana began, clapping her hands together. "I'd better start interviewing."

"_I'll_ handle the interviews," Holly said, raising a hand to stop Santana. "I'm still your PA until my successor is in place. You wouldn't make it a day if I just upped and left."

"I _so_ would," the Latina snapped back playfully, stooping down to retrieve several of her tools.

"Oh come on, Sanny, you couldn't put your panties on the right way round without my help," the blonde chuckled.

"I could just as easily go commando," Santana hit back, smirking over her shoulder.

"After nine years of knowing you, nothing would surprise me."

**~xxx~**

"Time to rise and shine…"

A familiar voice drifted into Brittany's dreams. She scrunched her face up, burying it further into her pillow. This was met with a laugh.

"Come on, Britt, I didn't fly hundreds of miles to watch you sleep."

"Whaa…?" The blonde forced her eyes open, and was met with a blurry silhouette kneeling beside her bed. She blinked several times, and slowly her vision cleared, until she was met with a very familiar face. "…Kurt?"

"In the flesh," he replied, flashing a warm smile. Brittany let out a squeal and half-leapt from the bed, tackling the young man into a bone-breaking hug.

"My favourite unicorn's come home!" she laughed, pulling away and looking him up and down. "You look great."

"And you look tired," Kurt replied with a nod. "Though you do kinda rock the bed-hair-and-pajama look."

Brittany chuckled, and sat back down on the edge of her bed, motioning for Kurt to do the same. "So," she began. "What's dragged you away from the bright lights of the city?"

"Well, a little bird told me that it's someone's birthday soon," he said knowingly. Brittany, however, became serious.

"Really?" she asked, sounding rather worried. "Because Lord Tubbington's been really cranky lately and I'm pretty sure I found feathers under my bed last week."

"No, Britt, I mean _your_ birthday," Kurt clarified. Brittany blinked.

"…it's my birthday soon?"

"…yes?" Now Kurt was unsure. "Unless you've changed it…?"

"You can do that?" Brittany asked, her tone serious again. "Because if you can I'd have it on Christmas Day."

"Something tells me you can't," Kurt replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Was it the bird?"

"_Anyway_," Kurt pressed on. "I can't make it for the actual day, which I'm really sorry about by the way, but I can treat you to a night out at the Children's Hope Charity Gala tonight."

Brittany stopped dead. She had read about that event only a few days ago. She looked at Kurt in silence, dumbstruck, before slowly breaking into a grin. "You mean…?"

"Yes I do," he replied, nodding. "Santana Lopez will be there – wearing a little something designed by yours truly – to help raise money. She's donating one of her classic cars for people to bid on – all proceeds go to charity."

"Oh Kurt, thank you!" She threw her arms around him again, before reeling back in shock. "Wait…that party's tonight!"

"Yes it is," Kurt replied, bouncing to his feet. "Which is why I…" He glanced through the open bedroom door with an excited smile, and back to Brittany. "…whipped you up something special just for the occasion."

Her bright eyes wide with shock, the blonde scrambled to her feet and shot into the next room.

"Oh my god, Kurt, I want to marry you!"

Kurt smirked and nodded. Some things never changed.

**~xxx~**

Santana looked out over the large hall with a small smile tugging at her lips. In the center of the dance floor, raised on a slowly rotating podium, was the car she had been working on earlier that day. She was a little worried about the quantity of left-over parts after she had reassembled the engine, but hey, it was for charity, right? As the guests continued to filter in, she couldn't help but let her eyes wander. Her position on the balcony overlooking the hall meant she could see every single person, and there were some absolute stunners in tonight. It was merely a case of working out which would be easiest to pry away from whatever man's arm they were hanging on.

"I thought I heard tyres squealing," a voice from behind her said. "Blaine on holiday again?"

Santana turned on the spot, and instantly broke into a grin. "Well well, if it isn't Sucksaman." Noah Puckerman smirked and pulled the Latina into a tight embrace. "Geez, is that a new medal that's stabbing my tit right now?"

"Two, actually," Puck replied, pulling away and throwing the left side of his chest out. "I figure they owe me more than this, but the ladies appreciate the uniform all the same."

"Hm," Santana murmured, leaning closer to inspect the medal on her friend's dark blue uniform. "In my experience it's what you keep underneath that counts." She stood back to full height. "But it's okay to compensate. Means you're capable of admitting you come up short in other areas."

"Very funny," he muttered, looking back out across the guests. "I heard about Holly. Can't believe she's ditching you after all this time."

"It's her loss," Santana replied with a shrug.

"Can't say I blame her, though," Puck continued. "Can't be fun having to always keep you from screwing the wrong girl."

"Define 'wrong'," Santana challenged. She knew exactly what he was referring to, but she wanted to hear him admit it.

"A _talker_," her friend said. "One dumb girl yacks to the press and boom! Lopez Industries goes up in smoke and I'm mopping up what little of you your Abuela hasn't incinerated."

"Yeah," the Latina muttered, leaning on the railing and glancing away.

"Hey, look, I didn't mean-"

"I know," Santana said. "It's fine, Puck. I just…I just wish I didn't have to pretend half the time, you know?. It's like…sometimes I can go to one of these things, grind up against a girl all night and take her home with me for a night of thrills, and yet other times I have to pretend to be Little Miss Goody Straight-Shoes."

"The media's a bitch," Puck said with a shrug. "That's why I like my job so much. No one in TV-land cares who I am."

"Shame," Santana smirked. "They could give you your own TV series with a dead racoon that lives on your head for a sidekick."

**~xxx~**

Brittany looked up at the concert hall with wide eyes. Normally she would have asked why a party was being held at a place she had assumed was meant for people to perform at, but she was too bowled over by the spectacle of it all. A lush red carpet stretched from the roadside, up a set of steps and into the building, which was lit up with a kaleidoscope of different colours. On either side of the carpet, behind a rope fence, were literally hundreds of press and photographers, and Brittany couldn't quite believe that she was going to walk into the building in front of all those people. It didn't bother her; on the contrary, it thrilled her. Was this a slice of the life her friends had become so used to?

She turned to Kurt, who was sending a message on his phone. Their car was nearing the drop-off point level with the carpet, and at that moment a thought occurred to the blonde.

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked. "Instead of your boyfriend?"

"I told you," the young man replied, not even looking up from his phone. "His job still makes it awkward for us to be seen together in public." He snapped the phone shut and smiled at her. "Besides, this is your treat and I wanted an excuse to make you that dress."

"Yeah, I know," Brittany replied, nodding. "It's beautiful, by the way." She gestured at the deep blue gown she was wearing. "But this boyfriend. I still think it's weird that we've never met him." She paused, deep in thought for a moment. "Are you sure he isn't imaginary?"

"Oh yes," Kurt said, giving a knowing smile. "Quite sure." As their car pulled up to the carpet, Brittany took a nervous breath. "You ready?"

"No," she squeaked, finding that her brain had decided she was nervous after all. "I mean, this morning I thought it was just going to be a normal day. And now I'm, like, sharing a red carpet with you and all your high-flying friends." Kurt smiled.

"Come on," he said. "Just ignore them and it'll all be fine."

The blonde managed a nod, and moments later, the door was opened for her.

**~xxx~**

"For the last time, I'm not flipping a coin over her," Puck said, shaking his head in the face of Santana's smirk. "I've got a bit more integrity than that."

"God, I think I hate the air force even more right now," Santana muttered, pocketing the coin. "They've sucked all the fun out of you." The Latina had suggested using a coin to decide who got to talk to an attractive redhead on the other side of the hall. Their girl-related coin-tosses were something of a running joke – mainly because Santana almost always won, and the one time Puck had called it, the woman had ended up being married to a rather intimidating basketball player. She sighed, and shook her head. "You know what? She's all yours," she said. "Probably straight, anyway. Doesn't know what she's missing."

Clearly sensing that his friend was still a little upset, Puck just nodded and made himself scarce. Santana sighed and headed over to the bar, leaning heavily upon it.

"Large vodka martini, extra dry," she said, not even meeting the barman's eyes. Tonight was meant to be a chance to have some fun, and yet right now all she wanted to do was get back to her garage and bury herself in something complicated and fiddly.

**~xxx~**

"Oh my god, there she is!" Brittany whispered, clapping a hand to her mouth and pointing. From where she and Kurt were standing, she could see Santana stood at the bar.

"Calm down, Britt," Kurt hissed from the corner of his mouth. "Remember, you have to act casual in here."

"Right, yeah, casual," the blonde repeated, nodding to herself. "Got it."

"That doesn't mean you can't talk to her," Kurt suggested, taking a sip from his drink. "She won't bite."

"That's easy for you to say, you've met her," Brittany replied. "When were you going to tell me, anyway?"

"You know how it is – tailor-client confidentiality and all that," Kurt said. "Besides, if I start blabbing about who I'm working with, how does that make me look?"

"Yeah, I guess…" Brittany sighed, still unable to take her eyes off of Santana. "She looks so sad…"

"Probably regretting putting that car up for auction," Kurt suggested, nodding towards the rotating vehicle. "It's gorgeous."

"I didn't think you liked cars?" the blonde pointed out, and Kurt instantly looked a little nervous.

"Did I say that…?" he asked. "Well, I…uh…guess you could say I know someone who does…"

"Aww, it's okay Kurt," Brittany said, smiling warmly at him. "I think your dad's awesome too."

"Yes! My dad! Right, yeah," Kurt nodded enthusiastically. "Hey, do you think you could get me a refill?"

Brittany frowned slightly at his empty glass; she could have sworn it was full only moments before, but pushed the thought from her mind and nodded, smiling brightly at him. It was only when she was halfway across the hall that she realised what she was doing; she was heading to the bar; the same bar that Santana was still standing at. Swallowing uncomfortably, she steeled herself, and continued on her way.

**~xxx~**

"Miss Lopez?" A voice distracted Santana from her freshly delivered drink. She turned to the side, and saw a rather attractive blonde standing beside her. "Do you have a moment?"

"Well I'm very busy, really," the Latina replied. "But I think I can spare you a moment or two…"

"Great," the blonde said, moving closer. "I'm with Vanity Fair. I just want to ask you a few questions."

"Sure, shoot," Santana replied, placing her drink down and turning to the other woman.

"You're often called the modern Joan of Arc, what with your business being so male-dominated," the woman began, holding up a small recording device. "What do you say to that?"

"Completely libellous. I'm not religious."

"And what about that college nickname of yours?" the woman continued. "'The Queen of Destruction'?"

"They still call me that?" Santana asked, an eyebrow quirked. "Awesome." She took a step towards the other woman. "Let's see, I'm guessing this piece of yours is to focus on the horrors of my creations and the suffering they've brought, right?" The blonde gave her a hard look, and she continued. "Look, the world is never going to be perfect; believe me, I know that a lot better than people think. There's always going to be some douchebag out there with his finger on the button, and quite frankly I'd like less of those guys around."

"That's a great line coming from a woman with her fingers on hundreds of buttons."

"Actually I prefer switches, it's a lot easier to turn things on that way."

"Is that supposed to be some sort of innuendo?"

Santana sighed. "Alright, you wanna hear a story?" she asked, not even waiting for an answer to continue. "My dad had the world worked out. He knew that things were never going to be completely right. By our very nature, we're destructive – all the philosophers and junkies with guitars will tell you that – and while I'd love to throw all our guns away and start building high-tech duck ponds, it's not gonna happen so long as there's still one idiot left out there who thinks it's fun to use IEDs on children, or ordering his soldiers to gang-rape defenceless women, or to use chemical weapons in the middle of cities."

"Doesn't change the fact that you're making a living from coming up with more inventive ways to kill people."

"At least no one can complain that it's mindless violence."

"You ever lose an hour of sleep your whole life?"

"I'd be prepared to lose a few with you."

**~xxx~**

As Santana and the blonde reporter made a rather hasty exit, Brittany stood motionless, merely feet from the bar. Every logical part of her brain told her to not be bothered by what she had just seen, but even as she watched the two women disappear from view, a very uncomfortable truth wriggled to the forefront of her mind. She was completely head-over-heels for a woman she had only known for a minute, at the most, and had never even spoke a word to. She was positive Santana wouldn't even remember who she was. She had of course heard the rumours of the Latina's promiscuity; she had even read plenty saying it was indeed with women. But they had only ever been rumours; theories concocted by people on the internet with nothing better to do. Now, she didn't know what to think.

If she had got to the bar first, would that be her with Santana right now? Would her deepest darkest fantasies have been fulfilled for one night, before being discarded?

She shook her head in a vain attempt to control her raging emotions. Maybe that blonde was Santana's girlfriend. Maybe they were in a loving relationship and had been for years. Maybe Santana was just a very private person.

"I am so sorry," Kurt's voice was oddly distant. From the corner of her eye, Brittany could see him standing there. She swallowed again, her throat even drier than before.

"Why did you bring me here?"


	3. Dreams

**Glee and all related characters and places are owned by Fox - I just make them dance for my own amusement.**

**Really glad to see that this idea appeals to some of you. Not sure how long the updates will keep coming this fast for, but rest assured the fic will never be abandoned.  
><strong>

**~xxx~**

The next morning, rather than jetting off to prepare for his next fashion show, Kurt Hummel was to be found sat on a sofa, hanging his head and looking rather meek. Three sets of eyes regarded him; all of them stern.

"Well?" Tina began, folding her arms. With Mike on one side, and Mercedes on the other, she was surprisingly intimidating. Kurt looked up, momentarily lost for words.

"I'm…sorry," he began awkwardly. "In hindsight, not one of my better ideas."

"You think?" Mercedes scoffed.

"What were you thinking, man?" Mike asked, shaking his head. "You know how much Brittany idolises Santana Lopez."

"I just thought it'd be a nice surprise," Kurt replied earnestly. "You all know how much Britt's wanted to meet her; properly, that is."

"And you thought getting her all dolled up and taking her to the most exclusive party in town was the best way to do it?" Mercedes continued. "I'm surprised she didn't have a nervous breakdown. Just be glad she's got the day off or she'd have to go into work like this."

"She was fine," Kurt said, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"Then why was she crying when you came back?" Tina asked. "Even Brittany doesn't get upset by nothing."

"I think she was just a little overwhelmed by it all," Kurt replied. He knew better than to say anything regarding Santana Lopez that could get out. "I guess I did kinda drop her in at the deep end."

"It wasn't cool," Mike added. But before he could say anything further, another voice joined the conversation.

"I thought it was cool," Brittany said sleepily. She let out a small yawn, and stepped into the room. "Sorry I made you guys worry, but Kurt didn't do anything wrong. Guess all those people just got to me." She shrugged. "It was still awesome to see her for real."

"Oh, hey Britt," Tina said, forcing a smile. "We didn't hear you get up."

"Didn't fall over this time," the blonde said proudly. "But yeah, it was totally cool. She's even more awesome in real life."

Kurt raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. They chatted for a few minutes more, where Brittany made it clear that she had enjoyed herself and Kurt was completely vindicated in his actions. After the others had left, the blonde flopped down on the sofa next to him.

"Are you really okay?" he asked.

"Totally," Brittany said with a nod. "I was up all night thinking about it, and I've decided that actually what I saw just makes Santana even more awesome than she was before."

"You…have?" That was certainly a surprise.

"Well yeah," the blonde nodded. "That reporter came up to her trying to write a really nasty article about her, and five seconds later Santana's seduced her – that's seriously cool."

"And you're not just saying that to make me feel better?"

"…why would I do that?" Brittany's tone was serious. "You know it's wrong to lie, Kurt."

He gave a nod, before smiling widely. "Well for what it's worth, I'm still sorry." He got to his feet, and straightened his jacket slightly. "Hey, Britt. This might sound weird, but could you maybe not mention what you saw last night to anyone else? You know what the press are like, and you don't want to have anything bad written about Santana, right?"

"Of course not," Brittany replied with another nod. She mimed zipping her mouth shut, earning a chuckle from her friend. Satisfied, he stepped forward and pulled her into a tight hug.

"It was so good to see you again," he said as they parted.

"Just don't take so long to come visit again," the blonde said, poking the young man's chest. "I miss our girly sleepovers." She gave a light-hearted shrug. "Maybe next time you make a surprise visit you can take me to a movie premiere or something."

"I'll see what I can do," Kurt replied with a chuckle, and took a few steps towards the door. But then, he paused, seemingly lost in thought for a moment. "Hey, Britt…" He turned on the spot and regarded her carefully.

"Yeah?" She looked a little confused.

"Maybe there is something else I can do for you," he said, stepping towards her again. "I got told something I probably shouldn't have been, but after last night I feel like I kinda owe you…"

"Was it the bird again?" Brittany asked brightly, but Kurt didn't respond, thinking to himself again. After a moment, he decided, and nodded to himself.

"Santana Lopez's Personal Assistant is leaving soon. Moving to a different company, I think," he explained, keeping his voice quiet despite the apartment being empty. "They're holding interviews at their headquarters this weekend, meaning Santana will be around for two whole days. Maybe you could finally get a chance to thank her for what she did two years ago."

"What, by applying for the job?" the blonde asked, her smile giving way to confusion. Kurt shook his head.

"No, nothing like that," he replied. "But you know what she's like – always globetrotting. Her own staff can barely keep up with her, let alone the press. But you know exactly where she's going to be for two whole days – it's worth a shot."

"I…" Brittany looked away, suddenly very interested in the lining of the sofa. "I dunno, Kurt. I mean, yeah I really want to meet her and stuff, but…" She sighed. "Isn't this all a bit weird and creepy? You as good as smuggled me into a fancy party last night, and now you think I should go knocking on her company's front door? If I do ever meet her, I don't want her to think I'm a weirdo."

Oh, the things Kurt could have said to that. Instead, he quickly pushed those thoughts from his mind and shrugged. "It's just an idea," he said. "It's entirely up to you…"

"I'm not like you, Kurt," the blonde said suddenly, and the uncharacteristically serious tone of her voice was very apparent. "I can't just walk up to her like I'm somebody important and talk to her. Maybe last night was a good thing – maybe I'm not supposed to be part of your high-flying celebrity world. I…I just don't matter as much as you guys do…"

"Brittany S Pierce, stop right there," Kurt snapped, taking a step towards his friend. "Do you remember my dad's congressional campaign? Everybody matters. If it's really starting to get to you, then maybe you need a change of pace. Tell you what – you go speak to Santana Lopez this weekend, draw a line under this crush of yours, and next week I'll fly back and do everything in my power to get the wheels moving on the fabulous career you deserve."

"You…you'd really do that for me?" Brittany asked, her eyes shining. "Because I don't want to waste your time or-"

"Helping out a friend is never a waste of time," Kurt cut in, smiling wider. "We all had help to get where we are right now, and somehow you've been left out. That's not fair and it's not what you deserve." He clapped his hands together. "So, I will see you next week." He took a few steps backwards, heading towards the door. "Oh yeah, and don't tell a soul how you found out about those interviews. Only the people that are meant to apply should know."

"Alright," she nodded. "Bye Kurt!"

As soon as he was gone, she leant her head back on the sofa and let out a quiet sigh. Truth be told, she was still struggling to believe the party last night had actually happened; it had all moved so fast. She was just about to return to her bedroom to finally get dressed, when out of nowhere Lord Tubbington jumped onto her lap, wasting no time in making himself comfortable. Brittany chuckled and stroked his head, Kurt's words still echoing in her mind.

**~xxx~**

"Santana!"

The Latina looked up from her computer with tired eyes, directing them towards the stairs. Stalking across the garage was her grandmother, a newspaper firmly held in one hand. She leant back in her chair and minimised the project she had been working on.

"What were you thinking?" her Abuela spat, slamming the paper down upon the desk. Santana frowned.

"I'm thinking…you're pissed off about something," she said, reached for the newspaper.

"Language!" the elderly woman snapped, delivering a sharp slap to her granddaughter's outstretched arm. "Now what do you have to say for yourself?"

Santana scanned the page the paper was open on, and found the likely cause of her grandmother's anger. Near the bottom was a small article titled _'Santana Lespez?'_, beneath which was a photograph of her and the reporter she had spent the night with. She glanced at the name of the article's author and saw that it definitely wasn't the blonde with her in the picture. But her Abuela didn't need to know that.

"Ah, I thought we'd get something like this," she said, feigning irritation and throwing the paper down. "That reporter was trying to get a rise out of me; made dad sound like some sort of war criminal when I didn't give her the scoop she wanted."

"Typical," her grandmother said, her anger seemingly subsiding somewhat. "I just wish I knew why they always accuse you of…_that_."

"I guess it's the easiest thing to pin on me," Santana continued with a shrug. She was so adept at spewing these lies that it worried her somewhat. "I mean, look at me – CEO of a weapons manufacturer, I don't have a boyfriend, and I spend half the time doing stuff that guys usually do. They're just going with what they can get."

"Well perhaps it is time you did something about it," Alma said firmly. "I do hope you are interviewing men as well as women for the PA job?"

"You'd have to ask Holly, she's handling all that stuff," Santana replied, waving a hand and glancing back to her screen.

"Is that wise?" her grandmother asked, folding her arms. "Are you sure you don't want me to put forward some candidates myself?"

"You can if you want," the younger Lopez said with another shrug. "But seeing as it's…you know…my company, and my assistant, I get the final say either way."

"Well I hope you will consider what message it sends when you do," Alma replied, picking up the newspaper and heading back towards the glass door in front of the stairs. "You need a man in your life, Santana."

As soon as her grandmother's legs had disappeared from view, Santana slumped in her chair and let out a groan. She sat there in silence for a few moments, before sitting up straight and re-opening the project she had been working on. The multi-screen display was filled with several wireframe diagrams, rotating slowly while diagnostic information appeared beside them. Her desk was a rather elaborate piece of engineering in it's own right, housing no less than seven separate computer screens. Being an almost complete circle with her chair situated in the middle of it, Santana always had at least three screens in front of her at any one time.

"Hey Quinn, you still there?" she called, not taking her eyes away from the screen.

"Of course," a calm female voice replied, echoing softly around the garage. "Am I to understand you will be following your grandmother's suggestion under advisement?"

"Something like that, yeah," Santana said with a smirk. "Either that or I just tell her I spent most of last night with my head between a hot chick's legs."

"Based on this morning's reaction, that would be inadvisable," Quinn replied, earning a small laugh from the Latina.

"So how did we do last night, anyway?" she asked. At her words, the display on one of her screens minimised itself and was replaced with an image of the car at the party.

"The Porsche sold for just under two-hundred-thousand dollars," Quinn reported, just as the figure appeared on the screen. "Nearly double the average price for a vehicle of that model, age and condition."

"Well, it's all for charity," Santana replied, letting out a quiet yawn.

"Unfortunately the new owner was unable to drive the car home," Quinn continued. "According to my records, you failed to reinstall the cylinder head gasket."

"So that's what that was," the Latina said, frowning for a moment. "Oh well, get Holly to mail it to him or something."

"Miss Holliday has already done so," Quinn said. "After arranging transportation for last night's guest."

"How did she take it?"

"Actually Miss Williams seemed rather excited by the experience," Quinn explained. "I would not be surprised if spending the night had been her intention all along."

"I didn't think I'd programmed you to capable of surprise," Santana pointed out with a slight smirk.

"After dealing with your antics for the past four years, my systems must have developed some serious stress-related software bugs."

"Well," the brunette said brightly, folding her arms behind her head. "If it'd make you feel better, I could wipe your memory and give you a new personality. Maybe give you a sex change to make Abuela happy."

"I would prefer it if you kept your hands away from my memory banks," Quinn remarked, and Santana was positive she heard something of a mocking tone in the A.I's synthesised voice. "After all, I don't always know where they have been."

"I certainly didn't program you to be so sarcastic," she quipped, and was surprised to find her comment met with laughter.

"You programmed me to learn," Quinn stated flatly. "You are a bad influence."

"Yeah yeah," Santana replied dismissively, waving a hand. "So, where are we up to anyway?"

"Simulations are almost complete," the A.I reported, displaying a page of results on the nearest screen. "The new guidance system performs perfectly in all test conditions."

"Naturally," the Latina said, nodding to herself. "Hey, where _is_ Holly? Haven't seen her all morning."

"Miss Holliday is currently upstairs sorting through potential candidates to fill her position," Quinn replied. "Have you yourself given any thought to her successor?"

"Not really," Santana shrugged. "Guess I really have been putting it off. I was thinking maybe…" She tilted her head to the side. "…someone from outside the company? Get some new blood, so to speak?"

"Judging by Miss Holliday's current list of potential replacements, she has been thinking along similar lines," Quinn said, briefly displaying a list of names and images. "However I would suggest you talk to her directly about this; you know how much she dislikes being spied on."

"Only because you're so nosey."

**~xxx~**

By the time Tina returned home, Brittany was finally dressed and busy typing away on her computer. Since Kurt had left, she had spent a great deal of time pondering his words, and had decided on a course of action; she was going to do far more than pay a simple visit to Lopez Industries that weekend. It was something he had said just before leaving; 'only the people that are meant to apply should know.' Well, Brittany had reasoned, _she_ knew. Kurt had promised to help her find a better career, but now she was determined to do it herself. One thing she had always admired about Santana was her commitment to doing things your own way, even if other people dismissed it. That's how her idol had come up with some of her biggest breakthroughs, and that was how Brittany planned to proceed with this. She still had her CV saved on her computer, and had been working on expanding it. She reasoned that they would want to know absolutely everything about her, and had spent quite a long time on it by now.

When Tina arrived, Brittany looked up with a big grin on her face.

"Hey, Tina!" she said brightly. Her flatmate looked a little taken aback by her high spirits, but definitely relieved.

"Hey," she replied, shrugging her back from her shoulder. "How was your day off?"

"It was awesome," Brittany said, turning back to her laptop.

"Did Kurt take you somewhere again?"

"Hm?" the blonde looked up again. "Oh, no. He left really early. But it's okay, I've been busy all day." She leant over her screen, her smile only widening. "I'm applying for a new job!"

"Seriously?" Tina looked impressed. "Oh, Britt, that's great! What is it?"

The blonde sat back, buzzing with excitement. "I, Brittany S Pierce, am applying for the position of Santana Lopez's new Personal Assistant!"

**~xxx~**

"Seriously, Holls, where did you _find _these people?" Santana muttered, flinging several sheets of paper over her shoulder. Holly looked at her with a mixture of irritation and exasperation, watching the documents flutter to the floor behind the sofa. They were sat together in Santana's living room, though the term hardly did it justice. It was a large, multi-level room, big enough to hold an entire party. Huge windows overlooked the sea on one side, taking advantage of the house's cliffside location. Dotted around were a bizarre array of items Santana had acquired over the years, including a few paintings and even a marble statue. Surprisingly, given Santana's attitude to organisation, it was immaculately tidy – but that was more down to the fact that the Latina spent almost all of her time downstairs in her garage.

"I just thought it would be a good idea to look for someone outside the company," the blonde said defensively. "There isn't really anywhere from inside Lopez Industries that we can promote from."

"No, I agree with that part," the Latina said with a nod. "But where did you look? Dullsville?"

"They're all qualified."

"They're all _boring_."

Santana sighed, and leant back into the large curved sofa. She glanced to the side, the sight of the sea through wall-length windows calming her.

"Is this everyone, then?" she asked quietly, looking back to the coffee table and leaning forwards.

"No, there's a few that haven't got back to me yet," Holly said, warily watching Santana's mood. "You do remember that the interviews are this weekend, right?"

"Yeah," the brunette said, closing her eyes and rubbing her brow. "Yeah, I remember."

"Tired?" Holly asked, watching as Santana propped her head up with one arm.

"I guess," she shrugged. "Abuela saw that article this morning. Says I 'need a man in my life'."

"Well, at least choosing your new PA will give you a distraction," Holly offered, giving the younger woman an encouraging smile.

"I still don't get why I have to interview them too," Santana complained. "I've never had to appoint a new PA before."

"You picked me," Holly reminded her.

"I didn't give you a choice in the matter," the brunette quipped, flashing the other woman a toothy grin. "There was never any question about that."

"Well, either way, you're not getting out of doing this," the older woman stated flatly. "You're not going to pretend you hate them all just to keep me on payroll, and you're not going to skip doing the interviews; because I know that if I choose someone, you'll complain you didn't get a say."

"Hey, Holly, here's an idea…" Santana began, getting to her feet and looking down at the other woman. "…shut up." But her smile gave her away, and Holly just chuckled.

"If you're gonna be rude you can just do it yourself," she said, but Santana was already halfway towards the stairs to her garage.

"Love you too!"

**~xxx~**

"Guys, this is a serious problem," Mike began, looking around at the assembled group. The apartment was dark, with only a couple of lamps illuminating the main room.

"I, for one, think it is a brilliant idea," Rachel said, nodding to herself. "Brittany needs to follow her dreams."

"Dreams that she isn't even nearly qualified for," Mercedes replied, shaking her head. "This isn't like getting a summer job down at a local store."

"It's more like working in Burger King and thinking the next logical step is the White House," Mike added. "We can't let her go through with this."

"I dunno…" Tina said, looking between her friends. "You guys didn't see how excited she was when she told me."

"That just makes it worse," Mercedes cut in. "She's gonna go to pieces when she doesn't get it."

"And why are you so sure she isn't going to get it?" Rachel asked pointedly. "I didn't think I would get the role of Elphaba in Wicked, and now I'm practically bleeding green dye!"

"Yeah, but you actually have qualifications, Rachel," Mike reminded her. "Brittany hasn't got a thing – she flunked almost all of her exams and never retook them. Why do you think she reads books to children now?"

"Maybe we should call Mr Schue," Tina suggested. "He was always good at talking to us about these things back in High School."

"We're not kids in Glee Club anymore," Mercedes reminded her. "This is the real world and Brittany doesn't know how to deal with it. She's spent the last two years crushing on some hotshot billionaire that she's only ever met by chance, and now she's got it into her head that she's gonna work for her? _Please_."

"Alright, let's all just calm down for a moment," Rachel said, holding her hands up to silence the others. "Are you really suggesting that we go in there and tell Brittany that she's not good enough to do this?" The group exchanged looks with each other, before turning back to Rachel in unison, having come to a silent agreement. "Exactly. Yes, she may be upset if she doesn't get the job, but surely she can learn from that. We can't just tell her to give up."

"She does sometimes get pretty depressed about it," Tina said, shaking her head. "Not often, but sometimes she really feels inferior compared to us."

"And do you really want to make that worse?" Rachel asked, cocking her head to the side and raising an eyebrow. "Of course not. I believe we should support Brittany with this, and be there for her when…um…"

"When she's laughed out of Santana Lopez's office with her tail between her legs?" Mike offered, earning a glare from Tina. "_What?_ Look, we all love Brittany, but that doesn't change the fact that she's way in over her head here."

"I still can't figure this obsession out," Tina said, frowning to herself. "One minute she thinks that going too far is creepy, and the next she wants to be her PA? What gives?"

"Well one way or another, we need to all agree on what to do," Mercedes said. "After Kurt's little 'miscalculation' with that party last night, Brittany's already going to be pretty fragile."

"Still can't believe I wasn't invited…" Rachel muttered, but was ignored by the others.

"What do you think even happened?" Mike asked. "I don't buy her story that everything was okay."

"Probably saw Lopez making out with some guy," Mercedes shrugged. "Guess she didn't like having her hero's image shattered like that."

"Maybe," Tina murmured, lost in thought for a moment, before getting to her feet. "Anyway, are we all agreed? We support Brittany with this, and be there for her afterwards, whatever happens, right?"

They all nodded in agreement. After Rachel and Mercedes had left, Tina and Mike sat together on the sofa, staring into space. They were quiet for nearly ten minutes, before Mike finally turned to his girlfriend and spoke.

"You really think she has a chance?" he asked. Tina looked over to him, and sighed, before turning back to the lifeless television.

"She hasn't got a hope in hell," she admitted, sounding incredibly guilty at the admission. "But what can we do? She's our friend, and she deserves all the support we can give."

In Brittany's bedroom, the blonde was sleeping peacefully, having heard absolutely nothing of the secret 'meeting' that had taken place that evening. She clutched her plush unicorn tighter, and smiled, dreaming of a bright future.


	4. Clipped Wings

**Glee and all related characters and places are owned by Fox - I just make them dance for my own amusement.**

**As always, a massive thank you to all who have reviewed! As some have noted, I'm trying to inject a sense of realism into this fic. Not neccesarily to the world they live in - Santana's got an A.I in her house, after all - but in the characters emotions. It may have started out as a slightly bizarre AU idea, but if it's worth doing, it's worth doing properly!**

**Also to address some concerns people have had about Brittany's friends - don't worry, they DO genuinely care about her. They may seem harsh with their bluntness, but they still have her best interests at heart. And believe me, after this chapter, she's going to need them...  
><strong>

**~xxx~**

By the time the weekend rolled around, Brittany was bubbling with excitement. She had spent her evenings that week rewatching some of her favourite Santana Lopez speeches, reasoning that it would help her get 'in the zone' for the interview. Her friends had been surprisingly supportive – unlike the time she had pondered trying online dating for Lord Tubbington – and had quite happily let the blonde run her videos through the television without complaint. She had tried to have an early night on Friday, but had spent most of it tossing and turning, nervous but looking forward to it all the same.

She threw the covers from the bed as soon as she woke up, leaping to her feet and looking around feverishly before calming herself. Brittany had selected her clothes the previous evening, and almost began putting them on before realising she hadn't even showered. By the time she was washed and dressed, Mike and Tina were just waking up; the blonde almost scared the pair to death with the speed she was moving at. She had decided on a plain grey sweater and simply black pants; she had realised too late that she didn't actually own anything resembling a suit, and this was the least colourful ensemble she could manage. As her flatmates set about their usual morning routine, Brittany busied herself gathering a rather large number of documents together; she didn't want anything – no matter how insignificant – to hurt her chances, and was taking almost every piece of important paperwork with her, just in case it was required.

She skipped breakfast - despite Tina's protests - and after a few words of encouragement from her friends, practically skipped from the apartment.

Tina and Mike exchanged nervous glances.

"I'll get the ice-cream," Mike said. "You get the Looney Tunes DVD."

**~xxx~**

"Ma'am, this is your third wake-up call," Quinn's synthesised voice stated calmly. "As Miss Holliday will be arriving in four minutes, I suggest you take it."

"Mfffmmmhh," Santana mumbled, groaning as she forced her eyes open, a blurry haze of colour greeting her. As she blinked herself awake, she was met with the sight of a wheel right beside her head. Pushing her tangled hair from her face, she sat up, and realised that she had once again spent the night on the floor of her garage. Holly must have found her at some point; a blanket was draped over her. As the Latina rubbed her eyes, she took in the array of tools and parts scattered around her; she barely remembered what she had been doing the night before.

"Might I suggest that next time you decide to strip an engine in the middle of the night, you perhaps bring a pillow?" Quinn suggested. For lack of a more definite target, Santana just threw the ceiling a glare. "And might I suggest a change of attire? As appealing as some may find your 'oil-stained mechanic' look, I hardly think it appropriate for interviewing prospective job applicants."

"…is that today?" Santana mumbled, staggering to her feet and leaning against the nearby car for support.

"Indeed," Quinn replied, her voice betraying a hint of amusement. "Miss Holliday has spent the morning at Lopez Industries preparing for the weekend and is on her way to collect you with Mr Anderson."

"And you didn't think that I might like to drive myself?" the brunette growled, finally standing to full height and stalking across the garage to her desk at the tidier end of the room. As she approached, the screens flickered into life.

"In your present condition, that would be unwise," Quinn pointed out. "Three minutes."

"Are you taking into account the time it'll take her to get down the stairs?" Santana muttered, glancing around for something to wipe her dirty face with.

"Of course," Quinn replied. "If I may, there are appropriate cleaning implements and clothing prepared for you upstairs."

"One of these days, I'm gonna build you a body," the Latina announced as she headed through the glass door to the stairs. "It'll give me something to strangle."

**~xxx~**

The Lopez Industries building was hard to miss. As if the enormous 'Lopez' logo on the side of the main structure wasn't enough of a giveaway, it was signposted from just about anywhere from miles around. Since becoming such a fan of Santana Lopez, Brittany wondered just how she had been oblivious to the Latina and her company. Their headquarters were situated within the same city she lived in, and their advertisements were everywhere; she must have passed at least six billboards only that morning. The blonde had seen the building for real several times; mostly intentional detours to or from work, just to look at it. She had never dared enter the site, but now she found herself turning into the entrance of the visitor's parking lot, looking up in awe as the building came closer. Once she had parked, it took her a moment to properly gather her thoughts. She couldn't quite believe what she was about to do; it all suddenly felt incredibly real.

After gripping the wheel tightly for several minutes, she finally unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed out of her car, reaching back in for the bag containing her paperwork. She fumbled with her keys for a moment, nearly dropping them, before locking the vehicle and turning to face the building again. She looked up at the huge lettering on the side of it, let out a long breath, and headed for the entrance. The doors slid open with a quiet hiss, and once again Brittany found herself taking a moment to pause in amazement. The lobby was massive; an incredible space constructed of metal and glass. It seemed to stretch up the entire height of the building, with the other rooms formed around it. Above her, she could see several walkways connecting the two sides on each floor. Directly opposite the entrance was a desk, behind which a lone receptionist sat. Brittany looked left and right, but was met with nothing other than more of the impressive entrance hall. She swallowed uncomfortably, and began to cross the room.

As she reached the desk, the receptionist looked up. She was smartly dressed, with neatly styled black hair and a kind expression.

"Good morning," the woman greeted, smiling up at Brittany. "Welcome to Lopez Industries. Do you have an appointment?"

"Uh…" Brittany suddenly felt a cold shiver run down her spine. This definitely felt too real now. "I'm here for the…um…" Unable to finish her sentence, she flipped the top of her bag open and partially lifted her CV from it.

"For the interviews?" the receptionist asked, to which Brittany nodded. The woman smiled and turned to her computer. "I'll just need to give you a visitor's pass for the elevators. Can I have your name?"

"Brittany Susan Pierce," the blonde blurted out, gripping her bag strap rather tightly. The receptionist chuckled.

"I'll just put Brittany Pierce," she said as she continued to type. A moment later, a nearby printer whirred into life, and moments later Brittany was presented with her pass. "Keep that round your neck at all times, and just swipe it at the elevators to call them."

"…okay," the blonde murmured, looking down at the small card hanging from her neck. She wondered why it had been so easy to get in; but Kurt had said only a few people even knew about the interviews. She swallowed again; she wasn't meant to be one of those people, and the fact was slowly creeping to the forefront of her mind.

"Don't be nervous," the receptionist said, flashing another smile. Brittany realised with some embarrassment that she had somewhat zoned out. "You'll be fine. You want to head up to the fifth floor. Take a right, go straight down the corridor, and then another right. Everything should be clear from there."

"Thanks," she managed, before finally closing her bag and looking left and right; there were elevators on both sides of the lobby. "Um…can I take either one?"

"Either one," the woman behind the desk said, still smiling encouragingly. Brittany nodded and looked back and forth a few times.

"I'll, um…I'll take this one…" She gestured weakly towards the one on her left, and awkwardly began walking towards it, not sure whether she should say goodbye to the receptionist or not.

"Good luck!" the woman called.

A smile was all Brittany could manage in reply. As she reached the elevator, she saw that there was indeed no button to call it; merely a device for her to swipe her pass. With a shaky hand, she took the card, and gingerly moved it through the reader. Instantly, a little red light appeared on the reader. Then nothing.

"Try doing it a little faster!" the receptionist called. Brittany nearly jumped out of her skin, but shot a look of thanks over her shoulder. She did as she was told, and the light turned green. The doors slid open, and she nervously stepped into the rather large glass-walled elevator. As she turned on the spot, the receptionist gave a little wave, before the doors slid shut. Of course, they too were glass, and the blonde responded with a rather weak wave of her own, before turning to the buttons beside the door. She pressed the button marked '5' and glanced up as she began to move.

Despite her nerves, she once again felt a little burst of excitement as she ascended the building; through the walls she could see all sorts of activity going on. She had never been in a building like this; so modern and high-tech. There seemed to be computer screens everywhere, visible through the glass walls facing the expanse of the lobby. However, her marvel began to turn to apprehension again as she continued to rise through the building; she had never been good with heights, and the fact that almost every wall was glass and surrounded a room as tall as the building wasn't helping. Finally, the elevator came to a stop, and a calm female voice announced; "Fifth Floor – Administration."

Brittany heard the sound of doors opening, and turned on the spot to find that they were behind her. She gave a nervous chuckle; of course the elevator had two sets of doors, otherwise the only place she would have been going is tumbling back down to ground level. Hoisting her bag up her shoulder, she stepped out into the corridor. It was deserted, and she realised with worry that she had forgotten the directions given to her. Just as she had done in the lobby, she looked left and right for a moment, before picking a direction and heading off. However, she soon realised that she must have taken a wrong turn somewhere; there didn't seem to be anything resembling a meeting room or office nearby, and there was no visible directions. She remember a trip to Disneyworld a few years back, and wished more than anything that Lopez Industries came with a guidebook.

Completely lost, she started to panic. Unlike the other floors, the rooms on this one were not edged with glass, and as such, she was unable to see through them for any clues as to where to go. Eventually, she was met with a single door, beside which was another card-reader. She bit her lip for a moment, weighing her options. Should she attempt entry, not knowing what was behind it? The blonde glanced over her shoulder to make sure she wasn't being watched, before stepping closer and reaching for her pass. With a final deep breath, she swiped it through the reader, and was met with a red light.

"You are not authorised to access this area," the same voice from the elevator stated. Brittany reeled back, suddenly asking herself why she had even tried that.

"Excuse me?" a voice from behind her called. She turned to find herself facing a man with a stack of papers under one arm. "What are you doing?"

"I…uh…I'm here for the…" Brittany stammered, caught off-guard by the man's sudden appearance.

"The interviews?" he asked. "They're back down there." He gestured down the corridor with his free hand. "Just go straight on and then right at the very end."

"Thank you," the blonde mumbled, moving rather hastily past the bemused man. She did as instructed, and found herself face with a wider corridor section. Along one side there were a row of chairs, most of them occupied. They were all mostly young women, though a couple of men sat amongst them. All were wearing suits, ties, and equally smug expressions. As she approached, they all looked over at Brittany, and she got the distinct impression they were sizing her up – none of them looked very impressed. She instantly regretted her choice of attire, and kept her eyes turned towards the floor and she stepped closer.

"Sorry I'm late, everyone," a voice called from behind her. Before she could sit down, Brittany turned to face the newcomer, and felt her throat tighten considerably. She _knew_ this woman; hell, she had hundreds of pictures saved on her computer featuring her.

"Holly Holliday…" she breathed, watching as the blonde came closer. No one seemed to notice, or if they did, they remained silent.

The older woman looked around brightly, before her eyes settled upon Brittany and her smile faded slightly. "And you are…?"

It took a moment for Brittany to realise Holly was talking to her, and she stood there in silence for a few seconds. One of the seated applicants' sniggering brought her back to reality. "Oh, um…Brittany…" she croaked, swallowing and deciding to start again. "Brittany S Pierce."

"I don't remember contacting you," Holly said with a frown, stepping closer and looking Brittany up and down.

As the woman came closer, Brittany could feel her hands beginning to tremble. She couldn't believe this was happening; that she had let it go this far. She was being questioned, face to face, by Holly Holliday. She wanted so badly to wake up right now; for this all to be another one of her Santana Lopez-centric dreams. But no, she was sure this was quite real. Holly Holliday's appearance had hit her like a bucket of ice-cold water, snapping her back to reality. And it terrified her. Taking a shaky breath, she looked down at her feet.

"I…uh…a friend…a friend told me about it," she replied, refusing to meet the older woman's gaze.

"…are you alright?" Holly asked, and Brittany finally looked up. She had been expecting harsh words, but instead found a look of concern upon the other blonde's face.

"I…" Brittany swallowed. "…I've made a mistake, I…I shouldn't be here." She bit her lip, restraining the tears she could already feel forming. "I'm so sorry…"

"Hey, it's okay," Holly said, giving an encouraging smile and placing a comforting hand upon the younger woman's shoulder. "Do you want me to call someone for you? Can a friend pick you up or-?"

"Hey!" a third voice called. A voice Brittany would have recognised anywhere. She and Holly both looked up, and were met with the sight of an open doorway.

Santana Lopez stood with her arms folded, looking rather irritable.

"I don't know about you two, but I do have other stuff be doing," the Latina snapped. "So if you don't mind, could we get on with this?"

"Of course, Miss Lopez," Holly replied with a curt nod. She turned back to Brittany. "I-"

"C'mon blondie, you're up first!" Santana barked. Brittany looked at her idol with a mixture of fear and apprehension. She chanced a look at Holly.

"Miss Lopez, I don't think-" Holly began, but she was cut off again.

"Waiting now," the brunette called from the doorway, before stepping backwards and disappearing through it. Holly sighed.

"Just explain and she'll let you go," she said, shaking her head. Brittany, however, just stood there, rooted to the spot. She couldn't take her eyes off the doorway, but at the same time couldn't bring herself to move closer. This was real. This was actually happening. Santana Lopez had just called her into her office, and for once it wasn't in one of her daydreams. Tentatively, she took a step forwards. She could feel the many pairs of eyes watching her, and kept her own focussed entirely on the doorway. Part of her screamed at her to run; to get out of there before she embarrassed herself further, but she willed herself on; she had to do this.

As she neared the door, she heard one of the women sat nearby mutter something to the man next to her, and he nodded. She didn't catch what was said, and was somewhat thankful; her nerves were frazzled enough as it was. But then a thought occurred to her; she'd come this far, hadn't she? She knew her friends weren't entirely convinced she could do this; she wasn't as oblivious as they often believed. She steeled herself, and crossed the threshold.

The office looked just as it did in some of the photos Brittany had seen; a large rectangular room, wider than it was long, and the wall opposite entirely made of glass. Beyond, she could see the rest of the Lopez complex. From her own research, she knew that the building directly adjacent to the one they were currently in was one of the company's main Research & Development sites, and across from that in an even larger building was one of their testing centres. Of course, there was only so long before her eyes drifted towards the wide desk situated in front of the window, and naturally, the woman sat behind it. Brittany jumped when the door behind her was closed, before turning back to the woman sat at the desk. The woman she had idolised ever since that fateful day two years ago. The woman she was now very much alone with.

There was an uncomfortable silence, during which the two just stared at each other. To one side of Santana, a desk-toy rocked back and forth, as if counting away the seconds and taunting Brittany's nerves.

"You can sit down," the Latina said eventually, quirking an eyebrow as the blonde slowly made her way forwards. "It's okay, I'm far too tired to bite you."

Brittany managed a nervous smile; that was exactly the type of comment that would usually have her in stitches, but now it was directed at her? It only made her feel more apprehensive. Once seated, she let out a breath she didn't even know she had been holding, and tried to get over the fact that she was now sat at arm's reach from Santana Lopez. The Latina was dressed in one of her typical suits, sans tie and with the first couple of buttons undone – exactly as she had been that day at the library.

"So, Miss…?" Santana began, looking expectantly at the blonde.

"Uh…" Not for the first time in her life, Brittany struggled to recall even her own name. "…Pierce."

Racking her brain for some way to make up for that shaky start, she quickly reached into her bag and retrieved her CV. She rather shakily placed it upon the desk, and almost jumped when Santana quickly snatched it up and turned it round.

"Well then…Miss Brittany Susan Pierce," the brunette continued, reading the front of the document before dropping it back down and looking up at the woman across from her. "I'm going to ask you a simple question – why do you want this job?"

For a moment, she feared that every answer she gave would be preceded by an awkward silence. Santana just watched, her dark eyes shining with that same glint present in all of Brittany's favourite photos. And then, as if her own mind had had enough, something set Brittany on autopilot.

"Well," she began, holding her head a little higher. "I've admired you for a long time. Ever since we last met, in fact."

"We've met?" Santana asked, cocking her head to the side. Then rather suddenly, she leant across the table, leaning her head on one hand and studying the blonde's face intently. "…why do I want to say you once tried to sell me a truck?"

"Actually, you saved me from being hit by one," Brittany clarified. "Outside the-"

"Outside the library across town, yeah," Santana said, nodding and leaning back into her seat. "Well I'm glad you've survived since then." She gave a brief smile. "So, this admiration thing, what are we talking? Fangirl? Groupie? That sorta thing?"

"Actually it's more to do with your work ethic," the blonde replied. "Your attitude to your business really inspired me. I…ah…I probably shouldn't say so, but you're something of a hero to me…"

"Never gonna complain about being complimented by a pretty blonde," Santana said, smiling again.

"I just…really _got_ the things you've said over the years," Brittany continued, looking at her hands to hide the pink tinge creeping across her cheeks. "Like, I've really understood where you're coming from all the time."

"So…you're saying you're _meant_ to be here?" the brunette challenged, raising an eyebrow again. "You're destined to work under me as the only person in the world who – quote unquote – 'gets' me?"

"No, I mean, um…" Brittany felt her temporary bout of confidence waning. "I just…I really believe in what you stand for; in what this company stands for."

"You know what? Let's change this up a bit," Santana said. She pushed her chair back from the desk, and got to her feet. She began to pace behind the desk. "Let's say I have a meeting in the morning, but I have a bad feeling about the guy it's with. It's important, and a lot of money's resting on it, but the guy's a complete douchebag. As my Personal Assistant, what would you do?"

"Well I'd probably ask him why he was being so mean and if a Pixie Stick would cheer him up…" Brittany mused, before suddenly realising with horror that she had just said that out loud to Santana Lopez. "I mean, uh…"

But then something surprising happened. Santana laughed.

It wasn't particularly loud or long, but the smile it left on the Latina's face served to ease Brittany's tension, if only slightly. She didn't comment on it, and instead continued to pace.

"Okay, how about this…" she went on, flicking her tongue between her lips as she thought. "The company is about to make a breakthrough in an area of research, and our top clients want working prototypes asap, but the tech isn't ready and could blow up in their faces if they get it too early. What do we do?"

"Well…" Brittany thought harder about this one, pausing for a moment as she imagined the scenario. She would be lying if she claimed to have never pictured herself holding a position like this before; fantasising about how she would run her own business empire. That thought made it a little easier to process. "I'd probably let them have it, but only if they promised to buy it once it was finished – because it'd be rude for them to make you go to the trouble of sending it to them - even if the test one did…um…blow up in the face, or something…"

Santana smiled again. "Okay, and lastly, say I had an important press conference to go to, but I'd much rather spend the day with a smoking hot …um…person, on my ridiculously expensive yacht?"

"Well that depends," Brittany said. Santana looked surprised, and folded her arms.

"Oh?"

"Well…" the blonde began, looking to one side as she thought. "If they were super-skanky, or like, really not worth your time, then I'd say you should go to the press thing." She paused, and looked back up at Santana. "But…if you really liked them; if you really thought you might be going somewhere with them, then I'd want you to be happy and tell you to screw the press."

Santana's reaction was unreadable. She just stared at Brittany for a few moments, before unfolding her arms and slowly moving back into her seat. She cleared her throat, looking a little uncomfortable. Brittany mentally kicked herself; she must have said something wrong. Going back into full-on panic mode, she bit her bottom lip, and waited for the brunette to speak.

"So….tell me about yourself," she said, her voice suddenly a lot quieter than it had been. "I'm probably asking all these questions in the wrong order or something, I dunno…" She looked up, a slightly more confident look in place. "Hobbies, interests, that sorta thing…"

"Feeding the ducks," Brittany replied without question. Santana's expression changed to one of bemusement. She actually looked speechless for a moment.

"…excuse me?" she repeated, managing a small smile.

"You know, at the big pond in the park?" the blonde continued, a smile of her own creeping across her face. "Every morning before work, I always stop there for, like, ten minutes or so. I think they recognise me now. Though maybe they can just smell Lord Tubbington on me…"

"Lord Tu-? …what?" Santana looked confused, but highly amused at the same time.

"My cat," Brittany clarified, nodding to herself. The Latina blinked a few times, looking almost as if she had been slapped.

"I was thinking more like skills or talents…" she said, and Brittany gave a slow nod of understanding. She looked down for a moment, pondering how best to approach the subject.

"Well, uh…what I really enjoy doing in my spare time is dancing, actually…" She smiled slightly, looking up from her hands to meet Santana's eyes. "It was what I always wanted to do in High School, and I still enjoy doing it as much as I can. When I have the time, that is…"

"Why did you stop?" Santana asked. Her voice was once again muted now, but Brittany couldn't work out if it was boredom, tiredness, or something else entirely.

"Well…I…uh…" After what had seemed like a relatively good start, Brittany felt her panic begin to return. It was like her skin had been set alight, but at the same time covered in ice. She couldn't just lock up and go silent, but now she had nothing to say – nothing she wanted to be heard by Santana Lopez, anyway. "I…" She took a deep breath, and attempted to calm herself. "They always said I was really good at it in High School, but…"

She had mentioned Lord Tubbington.

"When it came to graduation, I…"

She had talked about feeding the ducks every morning.

"Things didn't really…"

She had mentioned Lord Tubbington and the ducks to Santana Lopez.

"I…I just…" She felt her eyes begin to burn, realisation dawning on her. She was sat in front of her idol; her hero. The CEO of Lopez Industries; quite possibly the most powerful woman in the world, and she was talking about her overweight cat and a bunch of ducks. "Miss Lopez, I need t-to…to tell you something…"

Santana frowned, watching the blonde's slow meltdown with a baffled expression.

"…you remember that day?" Brittany began. She could feel cold sweat on her forehead, and a rising sickness in the pit of her stomach. "That day at the library? And you stopped me getting hit by that truck?"

"Yeah…?"

"I…" the blonde screwed her eyes up, willing her tears to remain unseen. However, moments later, they emerged all the same, and she hung her head. "…that's where I work. I work at that library. And I'm not organising things or anything…anything _clever _like that. Because I can't." She swallowed the lump in her throat, and gripped the hem of her sweater tightly. "…I can't do anything…n-nothing at all…I read books to children…that's it…I failed my exams at High School and…" She bit back a sob. "…that's why I can't dance. I don't have the q-q-qualifications or anything like that…"

She looked up at Santana. The woman she had been smitten with for so long was now no more than a blurry haze, distorted by her tear-stained eyes.

"…you're the most amazing person I've ever met, Miss Lopez," she murmured, casting her eyes downward again, not wanting her vision to clear and reveal whatever look was on the brunette's face. "And I'm just…I'm just a stupid _stupid_ little girl that's been kidding herself…"

Without warning, she clambered to her feet, grabbing her bag but not bothing to sling it over her shoulder. She gave Santana a final pained look, tears running down her now red cheeks.

"I'm so sorry for wasting your time…"

And with that, she ran.


	5. Taking Flight

**Glee and all related characters and places are owned by Fox - I just make them dance for my own amusement.**

**So sorry about the long wait for this chapter. Been incredibly busy with various other things, and this fic kinda fell through the cracks. However, watching both Iron Man movies back-to-back gave me the motivation boost I needed, so on with the show...  
><strong>

**~xxx~**

"Santana." Holly's voice was harsh. "What on Earth did you say to that poor girl?"

The Latina was silent; almost stunned. Her eyes were focussed entirely on the doorway and the corridor beyond, where moments before she had seen the last of Brittany's golden hair disappear around the corner. She blinked, and the spell was broken. The brunette looked up at Holly and shook her head.

"I didn't…"

"Why was she in here so long, anyway?" the blonde continued, folding her arms angrily. "What, did you feel the need to put her in her place or something?"

"I was interviewing her," Santana managed, swallowing and finding her voice again. "I was giving her a fair shot, actually. Isn't that what you wanted me to do with these people?"

"Yes, but…" Holly began, before letting out a dramatic sigh and closing her eyes. "You could have just sent her away without patronising her like that."

"I wasn't!" the Latina replied incredulously. "Like I said – I gave her an interview. What more do you want from me?"

"You must have known she wasn't meant to be here," Holly said, shaking her head and sighing again. "Look, let's just get on with this. At least you got some practice in, I guess." The older woman moved over to the desk, glancing at the chair Brittany had rather abruptly pushed to the side. "So what made her snap? Discussing the stock-market performance charts? The administration plans for the end of the year?"

"Ducks and a cat," Santana replied quietly, glancing back down to her desk. Holly looked almost disbelieving.

"In that case," she began, rather fiercely dropping the stack of documents she had been holding onto the table. "I think I'd better sit in on the rest of them. And hey – they're gonna be terrified now that you've sent the first applicant out in tears."

"Not funny, Holly," the brunette replied, still not meeting the other woman's eyes. "I told you I wasn't cut out for this."

"Oh drop it, Santana," Holly barked. "Just last week you had a meeting with the Secretary of Defence; you can handle a few PA applicants."

"If you say so…"

**~xxx~**

If she wasn't still focussed on supressing her urge to vomit, Brittany probably would have been amazed that she managed to drive home in her current state. By the time she reached the apartment and closed the door behind her, her eyes were red and swollen, her makeup utterly ruined from the seemingly endless tears. She threw her keys to the side, missing the bowl they lived in by several feet and sending them skidding across the tabletop. The blonde staggered to the sofa, collapsing into it without even shedding her bag. She buried her head in her hands, resting her elbows upon her knees as she tried in vain to think of anything other than what had just taken place.

It was the same feeling she had felt after receiving her exam results at High School, but if anything it was worse. Santana Lopez had been such an inspiration to her over the past two years, and she had just made a complete fool of herself right in front of her. She pictured Santana at that moment; probably telling the other candidates about what had happened. She remembered the looks they had given her; eying her clothes and general demeanour with distaste, regarding her as though she didn't belong there. And who could blame them? Brittany mentally scolded herself for being so naïve; she wasn't even qualified to work in a burger bar, let alone the world's largest technology developer. She racked her brain for answers; _why_ had she done it? Why had she actually gone through with it? Was it because of Kurt's encouragement? Was it because she had been so desperate to see Santana Lopez again?

"I just want to be _better_…" she whispered to no one in particular, her voice oddly distant to her own ears. And there it was; the truth. She had been kidding both her friends and herself; she wasn't happy with her lot in life; she hadn't been for years. She hadn't got a decent job, she hadn't gone to university; she hadn't even made captain of the Cheerios in High School. Over the years she had lied to herself; told herself that she was okay with how things had happened. She had reminded herself of what her mother had told her – everything happens for a reason. Right now, she was unable to find any reason or purpose for her sorry lot in life. Was this punishment for something she had done? Finally dropping her bag to the floor and folding her feet beneath her, Brittany pulled the nearest cushion to her chest and pressed her face into it, wondering briefly it was possible to cry yourself into a state of dehydration.

**~xxx~**

By the time the last candidate had left, Santana wanted nothing more than to leave the office, go home, and sink into her jacuzzi with a beer in one hand and a complex quantum theory problem in the other. As she had predicted, the assembled hopefuls had all been the same – overqualified morons who probably had dreams of their own business success. Did they tick all the boxes? Yes, but not one of them sparked Santana's interest in the slightest. A couple of the girls weren't bad to look at, but even she wasn't going to hire someone based solely on that, regardless of what Holly thought. That said, that was just about the only redeeming feature some of them had.

On paper, they were all perfect. That's probably why she hated them all.

As soon as the last candidate left the room, smirking confidently to himself, Santana flopped back into her chair and unceremoniously placed her feet upon her desk. Holly didn't say a word, having become very accustomed to the way Santana abused her incredibly expensive designer furniture over the years. Instead, she began filing away the last candidate's paperwork.

"Well, that went well," the blonde said, snapping her bag shut. "Now you just need to decide who you think is most suitable, and I'll collate my own observations and hopefully we'll be able to make one of them an offer by Monday."

"Mmhmm," Santana murmured, leaning back and placing her hands behind her head. "And is that before or after they fight each other to the death with sporks?" Her assistant blinked. "Holly, come on – you really think any of those people are right to work here?"

"Are you trying to ask whether I think any of them are capable of handling you?" Holly countered, raising an eyebrow. "They're going to be your PA, Santana, not a babysitter."

"Isn't that what you said your job was?" the Latina asked, but Holly just glared.

"No, I said that's what you think my job is," the blonde snapped. "Santana, I don't need to tell you how great you are, but you seriously need to grow up."

And with that, she turned on her heel, and left the office, leaving Santana alone with a neutral expression. She stared off into space, Holly's words echoing in her head. With a sigh, the brunette pulled her feet from the table and stood up, rebuttoning her suit jacket. She turned to the window that acted as the wall behind her desk, looking out over the Lopez Industries complex stretching out before her. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the nearby parking lot, and as she watched, she saw Blaine holding the limousine door open for Holly, before getting in himself and driving away. Normally she would have been irritated – she and Holly had arrived together. But, as Holly knew full well, Santana had several cars permanently parked at the building; clearly driving herself home was another part of the blonde's 'growing up' message.

She sighed, placing a hand against the glass and looking back up at the nearby buildings. All of this was hers; the resources, the fame, the money. She had everything a lot of people dreamed of, so why was it that at that moment, she felt so alone? Santana turned back to her desk, and something caught her eye. She thought for a moment, before grabbing it and heading straight out the door.

She was going to do this _her _way.

**~xxx~**

"Quinn, get me everything you can find on Brittany S Pierce."

Santana was stood in the middle of her garage, having cleared most of the cluttered engine parts away. As soon as she spoke, the grid of small lights in the glossy black floor panels flickered into life, and before too much longer, Santana was surrounding by floating holograms. Most of them were web pages, with other pieces of data positioned near them. The main lights had dimmed to a weak glow, making the holographic displays more visible.

"Search complete," Quinn replied. "I assume you were referring to the same Brittany Pierce who was at Lopez Industries this morning?"

"That's her," Santana replied, nodding as she caught sight of a projection that appeared to show Brittany's Facebook page.

"Am I also to assume that you are still considering her for the position?" the A.I asked. Santana frowned for a moment, so the computer elaborated. "Miss Holliday informed Mr Anderson of what transpired. Or did you forget that you placed my monitoring systems in all of your personal vehicles?"

"Yeah yeah," Santana said, shaking her head and dropping the issue. "What can you tell me about her?"

"Brittany Susan Pierce," Quinn began, enlarging one of the holograms; Brittany's school report. "Age twenty-three. Attended William McKinley High School for four years but failed to graduate in her Senior Year. Was offered the chance to repeat the year but declined."

"Any idea why?" Santana asked, walking backwards to her desk and retrieving her chair. She sat herself down, before wheeling it across the highly polished floor and back into the midst of the floating projections.

"Based on posts and comments on her various social networking profiles, it seems she did not wish to be left behind by her peers when they graduated," Quinn explained, highlighting several other holograms. "Her High School alumni include Broadway singer Rachel Berry and technology developer Artie Abrams."

"Abrams?" Santana repeated, laughing to herself. "You're serious?"

"Quite," Quinn replied. "It would appear that he and Miss Pierce had a brief relationship during her Junior Year."

"And he let her get away?" the Latina asked, incredulous. "Well, this is the guy who thought sticking solar panels on mining equipment was a good idea." She paused for a moment, smirking to herself. "Out of interest, how are the stocks for Abrams Industries doing today?"

"Down three points," the A.I reported.

"Good good," Santana replied, before turning back to the holograms. "Anyone else? Miss Pierce seems to have a fair few connections."

"Indeed," Quinn continued. "In fact she appears to have been close friends with Mr Kurt Hummel, the man who tailored the same suit you are wearing at this very moment."

"You're joking," the Latina said, glancing briefly at her shirt.

"I can assure you I am not," the computer insisted. "You are aware, of course, whom Mr Hummel is currently in a relationship with."

"Blaine, yeah," Santana nodded. "I thought he said Kurt hadn't told his friends about them being together; something about…" She paused, lost in thought as she replayed the old conversation in her head. It _couldn't_ be.

"Ma'am?" Quinn's synthesised voice broke her concentration, and Santana blinked.

"Kurt said he didn't tell his friends about Blaine because someone he knew was obsessed with me and he didn't want to cause any trouble," Santana explained. "I always assumed it was some slobbering manchild with a crush, but…" She ran a hand through her dark hair. "Oh my god, all this time it was her…"

"I take it the fact that she is a young and attractive blonde woman supercedes the obsession, then?" Quinn asked, but Santana just waved a hand.

"I met her, Quinn," she reminded the A.I. "If she'd been one of those leg-humpers, I'd be fitting a new office window and scraping her remains off the parking lot."

"It would appear that Miss Pierce and yourself have a great deal of mutual acquaintances," Quinn stated, highlighting what appeared to be Brittany's online friends list. "You attended the opening night of Miss Berry's most recent musical."

"Did I?" Santana asked, now not quite paying attention. She couldn't believe it; the same woman she had bumped into by chance two years ago. She hadn't thought much about it since, other than that the blonde was quite possibly one of the most attractive people she had ever seen. But for someone living her life, Santana was used to seeing attractive people all the time, and so she thought little of it. But now it turned out she had technically had conversations about this woman with Kurt? If he'd only mentioned her by name, or shown her a picture, maybe things would have been different.

"According to the information at hand, Miss Pierce attended last week's charity event with Mr Hummel," Quinn stated, and Santana looked up in half-shock.

"You're kidding…" she breathed. "Either this girl is an A-grade stalker, or someone somewhere is trying to tell me something."

"Judging by Miss Pierce's own posts, she is quite the fan," Quinn continued. "It appears to have started shortly after your chance encounter two years ago."

"Well," Santana began, smirking again. "She's only human."

"It may interest you to know that Miss Pierce identifies as bisexual," the A.I stated. "Though she does not appear to have been in a relationship since High School."

"And as thrilled as I am that you're taking such an interest in my chances of picking women up, this is all getting a little creepy," the Latina said, clapping her hands together. As she did so, the holograms disappeared and the room's lights brightened again. She rolled herself all the way back to her desk, and picked up the item she had retrieved from her office; Brittany's CV. She looked at it with a small smile, before glancing up to the ceiling again. "Quinn, give me the rundown on Brittany, before we got sidetracked by all the other stuff."

"Brittany Susan Pierce," Quinn repeated. "Failed to graduate William McKinley High School five years ago. No qualifications. Has worked at her local library for the past four years. Showed little academic ability but excelled at physical activities; her grades were the only thing preventing her from achieving captaincy of the WMHS cheerleading squad. Despite this, went on to become Senior Class President. Generally regarded as friendly and loyal. Her lack of academic achievement was described by more than a few teachers as 'a shame.'"

"You know…" Santana began, her voice quiet. "Over the years, Holly has always been there for me. She never judged me for who I was, and always encouraged me; always pushed me to keep working. Despite everything, she kept me sane…" The Latina looked over to the windows that lined the right-hand wall of the workshop; the sun was low in the sky, casting the ocean in a brilliant orange hue. "And some of the things Brittany said today…" she murmured, continuing to gaze out to the horizon. "That girl's been held back here entire life because other people have told her she's not good enough; not _clever_ enough..."

She glanced back down at the CV, smiling at the bright pink writing that had corrected the spelling of something, before looking away and closing her eyes. "I don't need some jerk in a suit thinks he's going to take over the company…" She sighed again, resting her head on a hand. "What I need right now…is a friend." Dark brown eyes snapped open. "And I've got enough brains for the both of us."

There was silence for a moment, punctuated only by the soft hum of nearby machinery. And then without warning, Santana shot to her feet and grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair.

"Ma'am?" Quinn's call went unanswered. Instead, Santana headed straight for the nearest car - a silver convertible with the roof already down – jumped over the door, and started the engine. Tires squealing as they span on the polished floor, she took off towards the far end of the garage and up the curved ramp, speeding off into the evening sun.

**~xxx~**

By this point, Mike and Tina had returned. Brittany hadn't even taken note of their absence until she had been home nearly two hours, but as soon as they eventually arrived, they had done nothing but apologise for not being there the moment Brittany had got back from her 'interview.' They had then proceeded to prop her up on the sofa with a seemingly endless supply of ice-cream, candy, and kind words. If she wasn't so upset to begin with, Brittany would have found the whole thing rather patronising; but she was too exhausted to protest. They hadn't asked her for any details, something that Brittany was both grateful for – and resentful of. It was as though they had known this would happen; but given the circumstances, she couldn't blame them.

She wondered just how much they had discussed it behind her back. They had all been supportive to her face, but now that even she realised it had been a stupid thing to do, she couldn't help but dwell on what they may have said about her. There was no way they meant what they told her. She didn't have a chance and they knew it. And yet, she found it hard to be angry. They were so nice to her; had always been there for her; always provided for her. Maybe they saw her as something of a child? She wouldn't have been able to survive without their help and generosity, after all.

Pushing the increasingly dark thoughts from her head, she turned back to the television. She had seen these cartoons so many times, but this was the first time they had failed to bring a smile to her face. She felt pathetic; a grown woman crying herself into a stupor – she even had the stereotypical bucket of ice-cream, though Lord Tubbington seemed to have claimed that for himself. Tina was sat in a nearby armchair, reading a magazine and every now and again sending the blonde nervous glances – apparently without realising Brittany had seen her do it. Mike was bustling about the kitchen; Brittany assumed he was making dinner – for all she knew, they had asked her what she wanted and she had replied – everything was such a blur at the moment.

She barely registered a knock on the door, nor Mike shedding his oven mittens and making his way past the sofa. She didn't notice the man pause after opening the door, and she didn't even hear Tina gasping after looking up from her magazine.

But she did hear a voice.

"Hey," it said, cutting through the fog filling the blonde's mind. "Is Brittany Pierce here?"

As though waking from a deep sleep, her eyes widened and she sat up, suddenly very aware of her dishevelled state – hair messed up beyond recognition and eyes red from her earlier tears. As she met the gaze of Santana Lopez, she cursed herself for her uncanny ability to embarrass herself in front of her idol. Catching sight of her, the Latina cracked a small grin.

"You gonna stand there all day?" she asked, and Mike blinked, before finding his voice.

"Uh…yeah," he croaked. "Yeah, sure."

He stood aside, fully opening the door for the woman. Brittany sat motionless, unable to believe that Santana Lopez herself was standing in her apartment. This had to be some sort of dream; she must have fallen asleep in front of the TV, and this was a food-induced hallucination. Santana Lopez was probably a representation of the ice-cream. Or maybe the Dots.

"Hi," Santana said, stepping closer to Brittany. The blonde's eyes were wide with a mix of shock and terror, very aware that she must have looked a complete state. Santana turned to Mike. "Could we have a second in private?"

The man just continued to stare, but Tina got to her feet, grabbing him by the arm and directing him to their bedroom. Or at least Brittany assumed that's where they were going; she didn't dare take her eyes off the Latina still smiling at her. The same Latina she was once again completely alone with.

"You okay?" Santana asked, cocking her head to the side. "You're looking a little…pastey."

"I…" Brittany began before even forming a reply in her head. "…I'm fine…"

"Well you don't look it," Santana replied, folding her arms and leaning her weight upon one leg. "Had me a little worried earlier." Brittany looked down, the same feeling from before bubbling in her stomach; embarrassment and shame. She didn't have a clue why Santana Lopez was here; was it to laugh at her? To punish her for what she did that morning? She got to her feet, a little unsteady after so long slumped on the sofa.

"I'm so sorry…" she murmured, unable to look at the brunette. "…for wasting your time…I shouldn't have been there. I just-"

"It's okay," Santana cut in, raising a hand to silence the blonde. "Actually, I came to thank you."

"You…what?" Brittany looked up in surprise.

"All that stuff you said, it…" the Latina began, actually looking a little unsure herself. She placed her hands in her pockets and looked to the side. "You know when you spend ages trying to figures something out, but then it suddenly hits you and you can't believe you didn't see it before?"

"Uh…not really…" the blonde replied quietly, subconsciously gripping the hem of her sweater. Santana looked back up at her, flicking her tongue between her lips as she thought.

"Look, you know who Holly Holliday is, right?" she asked, to which Brittany nodded. "I mean…yeah, she's my PA, but she's far more than that, and…well none of those suits I saw this morning even come close to what I'm looking for, so…" She cracked a grin. "Congratulations."

Brittany sat in silence. What did that mean? Was Santana congratulating her for being just as bad as the other candidates? No, Santana Lopez wasn't cruel. Was she? Brittany had spent so long idolising her, but she knew full-well that how someone appeared in the media and how they behaved in person were two very different things. Was this payback for that morning?

"…what?" It was all Brittany could manage.

"I'm saying…" Santana stepped forward, her smile unwavering. "That the job's yours."

"No," Brittany said, acting instinctively.

"…excuse me?" Santana's smile faded somewhat; clearly she was surprised.

"Please…" the blonde closed her eyes. "I…I know what I did was stupid. Just like pretty much everything I do. And Miss Lopez, I…" She opened her eyes again, tears forming now. "…I don't need to be torn down any further…"

"Hey," Santana said softly, placing a surprisingly gentle hand upon Brittany's arm. "I'm not dicking around with you. What, you think I came all this way to take the piss?" Brittany was silent again. "I'm serious. I read your CV, and I…" She gave an encouraging smile. "…well I did a little homework of my own. I know you've had it rough since leaving High School." Brittany opened her mouth to speak, but Santana cut her off. "And this isn't some sort of charity thing – I'm not giving you this job out of pity. You're gonna have way too much responsibility for it to be a joke, but…" She looked away again, biting her bottom lip. "Well honestly, I kinda think I need you."

"You…you really mean it?"

"Well if you'd prefer, I could give Lord Tubbington the position," Santana said with a smirk, gesturing at the large cat currently burying his head in the tub of ice-cream. "If you're really not interested…"

"No!" Brittany said quickly. "I mean yes! I…uh…it's just…I don't think he'd be very good at it. No thumbs."

Santana threw her head back, her laughter filling the room. The effect was immediate; Brittany felt as though a bucket of ice had been thrown over her, waking her from the dull haze of her mind. This was real. This was actually happening. Santana Lopez had just offered her a job – in person – and was now joking with her about Lord Tubbington. She wondered briefly if this was some sort of dream, but quickly decided it couldn't be – she would never have been crying in her dreams, and besides – Santana usually wore a lot less in them. Overwhelmed, she flopped back onto the sofa, staring at nothing in particular as she processed everything.

"So, is that a yes?" Santana asked, resting a hand on a hip and continuing to chuckle.

Brittany nodded emphatically, worried that her voice would come out as en embarrassing squeak if she spoke. She clasped her hands together to save them from ripping her sweater to shreds, unable to stop them fidgeting.

"But…" she began, finally speaking. "But I don't have any qualifications. You saw…"

"Doesn't matter," Santana replied off-handedly, shrugging. "It's my company, and I can appoint whoever I want to whatever position I want."

"But why me?" Brittany continued. "I can't-"

"You applied, didn't you?" the brunette interrupted. "You want it, right?"

"Well…yeah…"

"Then that's good enough for me," Santana said. "Look, Brittany, I told you – I don't need some pencil-pusher that's going to file papers and label stuff for me. I'm not hiring a bunch of qualifications – I'm hiring a _person_. And…well, I like you. And from what Holly's told me…" She smirked, and to Brittany's surprise her full cheeks coloured slightly. "…well…I can be quite the handful."

"I could have told you that," Brittany said before she could stop herself. "Uh…I mean…from what I've read."

"Well there's a lot of stuff you won't have read about," Santana replied, quirking an eyebrow. "But I'd be willing to show you firsthand…"

"I can't believe this is happening…" the blonde murmured to herself, taking a shaky breath, before looking up at the other woman. "I was rejected for a job as a waitress at a local diner, and now…this…"

"Stop selling yourself short," Santana replied, and now her voice too was quitter. "Anyone can follow their dreams – they just need the chance to prove it."

"Your dad told you that…" Brittany said, before clapping her hands to her mouth. "Sorry! I didn't…I-"

"It's fine," Santana replied, smiling. "You don't need to keep apologising for saying stuff, Brittany. And yeah, dad did tell me that, and it's one of the things that's kept me motivated all these years. Well…that and Holly. And now – I hope – you."

"And what if I'm not good enough…?" the blonde mused, but Santana just shrugged again.

"Then be better."

That did it.

Recalling her own outburst to herself earlier that day, Brittany took a deep breath and sat up straight. She looked at her clasped hands for a moment, before meeting Santana's gaze.

"When do I start?"

"Tomorrow morning," Santana said, smiling triumphantly. "Well…technically you're already on the payroll – I got you added to the staff on my way here."

"And you knew I'd say yes?" Brittany asked, smiling slightly.

"I have a way with women," the Latina said with a shrug, and Brittany was sure that for a moment, Santana looked a little concerned with what she had just said.

"Definitely," the blonde replied with a nod.

"Anyway…" Santana went on, still looking as though she'd said something she shouldn't have. She reached into her breast pocket, and retrieved a small card. "I'll see you tomorrow morning. My place. Eight o'clock." Brittany took the swipecard, momentarily puzzled. "That'll get you in the front gate."

"Should I bring anything?" Brittany asked. She mentally scolded herself; she'd made it seem like she was going off to visit a friend. But if it had sounded unusual to Santana, it didn't show.

"Just yourself," she said. "At least for now. We'll have a whole load of stuff to sort out – this isn't exactly a nine-til-five job." She smiled again. "But Holly will be staying on until you're sorted, so I wouldn't worry."

"Okay…" Brittany placed the card down on the coffee table, before slowly getting to her feet. She looked Santana in the eye, and without another word, pulled the other woman into a hug. As was becoming habit, she instantly regretted it – this is until she felt the Latina's arms around her. "Thank you…"

"Don't mention it," Santana replied, stepping back and pulling a pair of sunglasses from her pocket. "Well then…" She put the glasses on, and flashed the blonde a wide smile. "I'll see you at work tomorrow."

She gave a casual mock-salute, before stepping backwards to the door and letting herself out – but not before raising her glasses and throwing Brittany a wink.

Almost immediately after the door shut, Tina and Mike can barrelling out of their bedroom. Had they been listening? They both looked between Brittany, and the front door, as though searching for some clue as to what had transpired. Their faces were painted with identical looks of shock, and it was Tina that spoke first.

"What was that all about?"

Brittany smiled. And for the first time in years, it wasn't just a smile of happiness; it was one of confidence.

"Oh, nothing," she said casually. "Just having a chat with my boss."


	6. In Her World

**Glee and all related characters and places are owned by Fox - I just make them dance for my own amusement.**

**Sorry about the wait for this one. As some of you may know, I started another Brittana fic - 'Leave Your Glasses On' - which has already amassed a huge amount of reviews for only a couple of chapters; check it out of you can :)  
><strong>

**As for this fic, this chapter was something of a long steep hill. It's not actually that long in terms of word count, but it gets a lot of neccesary description out of the way. If you've seen Iron Man - fantastic, you know what Santana's house looks like. If not, then this chapter is for you. Either way, if you just google something like 'tony stark house', you'll get plenty of pictures that illustrate it.  
><strong>

**~xxx~**

For the first time in years, Brittany was the first to wake up. By the time Tina and Mike had emerged from their room, the blonde was already showered, dressed, and finishing her breakfast.

After Santana Lopez had left, the couple had grilled Brittany on exactly what had happened – apparently Tina had pulled Mike away when he had tried to press his ear against the door – and spent a great deal of time asking her if she was sure it wasn't a big joke. However, still brimming with confidence, Brittany had rather bluntly told them to get over it, and stop looking so surprised that she had got the job. She herself was of course still pinching herself to make sure it was real, but with her own self-doubts mostly abated by Santana's words, she hardly needed others telling her she couldn't do it. She had absolutely no idea if she was even capable of doing the job she had been hired for, but after years of being told she wasn't good enough, she was going to give it her best shot.

As she stood in front of the mirror, Brittany made one final check on her hair and makeup – she had to make a good first impression on her first day. She didn't actually own a suit jacket herself, but thankfully Tina had a spare. It didn't fit perfectly, but it was better than a sweater. Coupled with a plain white shirt and simple black pants, and she turned out rather smart. Tina herself was stood nearby, looking as though she desperately wanted to say something but couldn't find the words; she kept opening her mouth and then immediately closing it and looking away. Brittany knew exactly what was going on – she wanted to ask the blonde if she was positive this was actually happening. As much as she understood their surprise – being in a similar state herself – she would have appreciated a little more in the way of congratulations. Maybe she'd be able to get that out of them when she came home that day and was able to prove categorically that this was real.

At roughly eight o'clock, she hoisted her bag over her shoulder, grabbed an apple from the nearby bowl, and after taking a bite and waving at her still speechless flatmates, headed out the door.

**~xxx~**

As she drove, Brittany found her smile getting wider and wider. This was actually happening; it wasn't a dream, it wasn't a joke, and it wasn't a mistake – she was on her way to the home of Santana Lopez, and for the foreseeable future, would be spending every day with the businesswoman. It was quite literally a dream come true, and as she continued on her way, the blonde noted that even the weather seemed to be matching her mood – not a cloud in the sky. Not that she would ever admit it, but the route from her own home to her current destination was one she had long since memorised. Brittany felt like something of a stalker, but after discovering that Santana's house – at least her main one – was not far outside the city in which she lived, she had of course looked into exactly how far it was.

Though despite knowing the route itself, she was unprepared for the views it would afford her. As the last few buildings went past, Brittany found the road suddenly winding near a large cliff face on her right. And before too much longer, to her left, there was the sea. Coupled with the glorious sunshine, it was a breathtaking sight, and the blonde found herself thankful that the road itself was not busy, for her eyes were fixed upon the distant horizon.

But if the ocean was an amazing sight, it was nothing compared to the one coming into view as the road turned slightly inland. Ahead, jutting out from a point further along the cliff face, was an enormous building. Constructed of white stone, shining steel and huge glass panels, it was unmistakably the house of Santana Lopez. It looked like something from a science-fiction movie – all curved angles and smooth edges. Brittany had of course seen many pictures of the building, but nothing had prepared herself for actually seeing it in reality. The blonde had often contemplated driving out this way to see it for real, but every time she reminded herself that it crossed her self-imposed line. Now, however, she was approaching it with the knowledge that not only was she meant to be here, but that it was her destination.

The road began to turn further to the right, following the land's edge as it curved inwards. Soon, the road left the coast, and Brittany briefly lost sight of Santana's house. However, it wasn't long until she was making her way up a long straight piece of road, and she knew that her next turning would be to Santana's driveway. The blonde gripped the wheel slightly tighter, her excitement threatening to bubble over. She could see the turning up ahead on the left, marked only by a small sign that read 'Private Property – CCTV in operation.'

Taking a deep breath, she turned the wheel, and began the last leg of her journey. Flanked by tall, thin trees on either side, the road up to Santana's house was narrow and winding. It curved gently right, then left, then right again. As it continued, Brittany was aware of a gentle upwards incline as she moved closer to the edge of the cliff – and Santana's home. As she followed the final left curve of the road, through the trees Brittany could see what looked like a large helipad, and she smiled; this really was it. She was about to enter an entirely different world – one she had only read about or seen in movies. It was quite literally her dream come true.

Finally, the road opened out into a larger area, reminding Brittany of the entrance to a hotel; there was even a large fountain in the middle of it, turning the area into a roundabout. Brittany could just picture the place full of cars, dropping of famous celebrities and politicians for one of Santana Lopez's famous parties, and felt a slight flutter in her chest that not only was she here – and was _meant_ to be here – but that she was the only one. She had seen a curved ramp leading down beneath the house – presumably to a garage – but Santana hadn't mentioned anything about where she was allowed to park, so instead, Brittany opted to simply stop outside the front door.

She sat for a moment, dimly aware that her heartbeat was increasing. There was silence, save for the distant crashing of waves down below. This was the moment. Brittany wished she could say it was the culmination of years of hard work and perseverance, but that would be a lie. She was here because of pure blind luck, and a helping hand from Kurt. Still, something Santana Lopez had told her echoed in her mind – '_anyone can follow their dreams – they just need the chance to prove it_.'

Lips curling into a smile, she reached over to the passenger seat for her handbag, before opening the door and stepping out into the sunlight. There was a warm breeze blowing, and Brittany couldn't have pictured a better day to be here. Smile only growing wider, she locked the car and made her way up the few stone steps to the front door.

And then found herself faced with a problem.

Being entirely made of glass, and part of a wall made from full-length windows, the door had no bell or buzzer. Beyond, there was simply a small room that appeared to be some kind of entrance hall, with a few paintings and potted plants dotted about. Brittany assumed this was to protect privacy; with a glass front, anyone could have wandered up to the house and seen inside. But then something occurred to her – she had been through no form of security thus far; she had simply driven up to Santana Lopez's front door. That didn't seem right – surely the billionaire had some sort of high-tech security system in place.

"Please identify yourself."

It was all Brittany could do to not jump out of her skin.

The calm, female voice had come from the house, no question. The blonde looked around, but found she was still quite alone. She turned back to the door, before desperately checking again for any sort of intercom system. But she had been right the first time – there was literally nothing but glass. With no other options available to her, Brittany swallowed, and replied.

"Brittany Pierce," she said. "I'm here to see Santana Lopez."

There was a brief pause, and then to Brittany's amazement, the glass doors swung open of their own accord.

"Welcome, Miss Pierce," the voice replied. "Miss Lopez has been expecting you."

Looking up, for lack of a better place to direct her eyes, Brittany was incredibly impressed; clearly Santana had staff watching her – that would explain the lack of any security guard or gate. The blonde stepped through the doors, and felt them swoosh shut behind her.

"If you will come this way," the female voice instructed, and another nearby door opened. Rather excited by all this – Brittany swiftly swept through.

And felt her breath escape her.

She had stepped into an enormous room; high ceilinged and bordered on almost all sides by more full-length windows, this had to be Santana's living room. The floor was on multiple levels; on the right, near a modern-looking fireplace, was a lower level with a large circular sofa built into it. Near the fireplace, a spiral staircase leading down and out of sight. On the left, a raised area housed what appeared to be a fully-stocked bar, complete with those drink-dispensing hoses that had always amused Brittany. She would have spent longer inspecting various other features – the large rocks that appeared to be built into parts of the walls and floor; the balcony beyond the windows that overlooked the ocean; the many works of art – most likely priceless – hanging from the walls. But she was cut short by that voice again.

"Miss Lopez asks that you join her downstairs," it said. As it did so, the lights running down the staircase brightened, clearly to draw the blonde's attention to it. Brittany smiled in thanks, before hurrying across the large room and towards the stairs.

Tentatively, she began to step down them. The stairs curved to the right, moving back on themselves and directly beneath the fireplace on the ground floor. Once they had turned back in the complete opposite direction, the stairs straightened out and lead downwards. At the bottom, on the right, another large glass wall with a door set into it. As she approached, something flickered within the glass. Brittany's eyes widened in surprise as a computer interface appeared within the window; a number pad with the words 'Enter Passcode' above it. She stared at it, paying little attention to the words themselves and more the fact that somehow – though not entirely surprisingly, given her intelligence – Santana had computer screens built into glass.

She was so caught up in simply observing the marvel, that Brittany briefly forgot exactly what it was she was doing there.

"Access granted," the voice said, and the display promptly vanished. Brittany blinked; she hadn't done anything. Still, she wasn't going to argue, and reached forward – hand shaking slightly – and opened the door.

She had paid little attention to the room beyond the glass, but upon stepping into it, Brittany found herself marvelling at the sight before here again. It was another large room; rectangular this time, with it's longest wall directly opposite her. Said wall was the only one with any windows, and Brittany realised that based on the house's outward appearance, this entire room must have been essentially hanging from the underside of the ground floor above, jutting out from the cliffside. The left side of the room, rather than featuring a wall, instead housed a large curved ramp, and Brittany instantly knew where it led – she had been right: this was Santana's garage. Near the ramp were two rows of vehicles – four cars on each side. Half were old, though their condition was immaculate. The other four were all modern; all sports cars.

Again, Brittany found herself prevented from further inspection of the room by a voice.

"There she is!" She froze, rooted to the spot. "Just the person I wanted to see."

Swallowing thickly, Brittany turned to the right, just in time to see Santana Lopez emerging from a side room, wiping her hands on a towel before tossing it to the side. The Latina smiled widely.

"You found the place okay?" she asked brightly. Brittany just smiled weakly and nodded.

"Fantastic," Santana replied, clapping her hands together. "Well then, I guess we'd better get things started." She stepped past Brittany, moving towards a large curved desk; almost a complete circle, save for a small gap allowing Santana to reach the chair in the middle of it. "First things first – you need security clearance." The brunette looked up to the ceiling. "Quinn, can you generate Miss Pierce an encrypted pass code. Level 7 Clearance – access all areas."

"Yes, ma'am," the same female voice from before replied.

"Is Quinn your housekeeper?" Brittany asked. She had been curious about the voice ever since she had first heard it. Santana raised an eyebrow, before letting out a laugh. Brittany felt as though she had said something stupid, and was about to apologise before Santana cut her off.

"I guess you could call her that," Santana said. "But a more accurate description would be that Quinn _is_ the house."

"Your house talks?" the blonde asked, and Santana just continued to grin.

"Quinn's a computer," she explained. "Built her myself a few years back. She looks after the house, keeps me updated on current projects, handles the security – all that stuff."

"I'm amazed you need a PA at all," Brittany replied, impressed. Santana just shook her head.

"Oh she's great and everything, but she can't exactly walk around or attend meetings," she said. "Well…not yet, anyway." She turned back to her computer screens, which Brittany noted were clearly made from the same material as the windows. "Now then, we've got a whole load of boring legal stuff to go over later, but that can wait." She looked up again. "First thing I want to focus on is getting you…you know…acclimatised, as it were."

Brittany nodded, unable to take her eyes off the other woman. In the space of five minutes, Brittany's opinion of Santana had quadrupled – computer screens in windows? A sentient computer running her house? This woman couldn't be human.

"So, Holly's gonna come by a little later and we can start getting you all trained up," Santana said happily. Brittany nodded, but couldn't help but be reminded of just how ludicrous this was – Santana was talking about training her from nothing? She was really okay with that? "Something wrong?"

"Hm?" Brittany blinked, torn from her thoughts. "Oh, yes. It's just…"

"If you're gonna start going on about how you shouldn't be here again, I'm gonna tape that cute little mouth of yours shut," Santana said with a smirk, getting to her feet and stepping away from the desk. "You've already accepted the job, Britt – no backing out now."

"I could resign," Brittany replied, surprised at her own teasing tone.

"You could, but that's not gonna look great on your résumé, is it?" Santana replied, not missing a beat.

"Yeah, okay…I'll stick with it til I find something more stable," the blonde said. "You know what the economy's like these days." Just where was this coming from? A minute ago she had been her usual timid self, and suddenly she was trading jokes? With Santana Lopez of all people? Totally surreal.

"You know, I'm liking you more and more, Brittany S. Pierce."

"Wait til you get to know me better – I'm probably the most boring person you've ever met."

"No one with a cat named Lord Tubbington can possibly be that boring." Santana smirked again. "No, I'll tell you who's _really _boring – the Secretary of Defence. My god that man could talk for hours and hours and actually _tell _you nothing at all." She chuckled to herself. "Anyway, shall we start with the tour? You're gonna need to know way round the house before you learn you way round the company."

Brittany nodded, and followed the Latina as she headed back towards the stairs. The blonde took one last look over the garage, and for the first time, she found herself accepting it – this was real.

And there was something else that hadn't escaped her notice; something that made her smile all the more, unseen by the other woman.

_She called me Britt._


	7. Double Act

**Glee and all related characters and places are owned by Fox - I just make them dance for my own amusement.**

**IMPORTANT: If you ever want to bug me for updates, ask any questions regarding this or my other fics, or just generally see what I'm up to, there's a link to my Tumblr account in my profile. It's right at the bottom of it.  
><strong>

**~xxx~**

As soon as they returned to the ground floor, Santana made a beeline for the curved sofa and flopped straight onto it, resting her hands over the back. She looked up at Brittany with an expectant face, watching as the blonde continued to stand awkwardly at the top of the stairs. Santana only smiled wider and nodded at the portion of the sofa further down from her.

"You can sit, you know," the brunette said, amusement lacing her voice. Brittany just smiled shakily and made her way closer, doing as instructed and sitting alongside the other woman.

"I still can't believe you live here," she said, placing her bag beside her. After her burst of confidence down in the garage, the last thing she wanted to do was recede back into silence and embarrassment.

"Well where else would I live?" Santana replied, quirking an eyebrow and continuing to smirk. "I mean, I've got a place on the French coast that's kinda nice… Oh, and you have _got_ to see the villa in Italy; got a whole lake to itself and everything."

"Oh, no," Brittany clarified, shaking her head. "No, I just meant…it's an amazing house." She looked down briefly, smiling as her cheeks reddened. "I always dreamt of living in a place like this…"

"Well…" the Latina began, reaching towards the coffee table and grabbing a neatly folded newspaper. She opened it, and gave Brittany a genuine smile over the pages. "…looks like your dream came true."

"Yeah…" the blonde murmured, looking out through the ceiling-high windows to the ocean. Then right back again. "Wait, what?"

Santana flipped the paper down again. "Problem?"

"Did…did you just say I was living here?" she asked, voice once again rather shaky.

"Well actually, what I said was that your dream came true," Santana replied, looking back to her newspaper. "But yeah, that's pretty much what I was implying." She grinned. "What, did you think Holly drove all the way up the PCH every morning? Most nights she stays in her room here." Then quickly, she folded the paper down again, frowning. "At least I _think_ she does. You seen her this morning?"

"Uhh…no?" Brittany answered, now uncertain as to whether she was meant to have seen Holly Holliday on her way in. Not that that was the main thought occupying her mind; was Santana really being serious? Brittany would be staying here with her? Every time she slowly adjusted to the good fortune she had somehow landed herself with, Santana Lopez threw another curveball in her direction.

"Huh." The brunette put her newspaper back down, before getting to her feet and looking around. "Quinn, where's Holly got to?"

"Miss Holliday is-" the A.I began, but was promptly cut off by a voice from the door leading to the entrance hall.

"Is right here," Holly answered, leaning a hand against her hip. "I'm surprised you're even conscious this early in the day."

"Holly, please," Santana said, not sounding entirely serious. "Not in front of my new employee – it's hardly professional."

"Because you're so known for your professionalism," Holly replied with an almost cheeky grin, stepping over to them and dropping her own bag down beside Brittany's, before turning to the blonde and giving her a far more genuine smile. "Hi," she said warmly, extending a hand for Brittany to shake. "Congratulations. Miss Lopez has already told me all about you."

"Oh so now we're being professional…" Santana muttered, walking off towards the bar. Brittany watched her go for a moment, before turning her gaze back to Holly.

"Thank you," she replied, somewhat taken aback given that not only had she been in tears the last time Holly had seen her, but this was the woman she was essentially replacing. "I never got the chance to say, but it's an honor to meet you."

"You're too kind," Holly said, sounding genuinely touched. "I just hope you know what you're letting yourself in for…" She nodded towards Santana, who was now pouring herself a drink. "Miss Lopez isn't exactly the most…orthodox…employer."

"Well, any advice would be great," Brittany said brightly, still somewhat perplexed at where her confidence was coming from; the last time she had been in the company of these two women, she had been reduced to a jabbering wreck. Now she was conversing with them as though she was actually meant to be there; which – she reminded herself – she sort of was.

"Well for a start – get a lot of sleep. Santana doesn't exactly have what you would call 'work hours'," Holly said, rolling her eyes. "Sometimes you'll find her down there in the middle of the night tinkering away on god knows what."

"Hey, I cracked the chemical composition of that armor-plating for the Navy's new cruisers at three in the morning, didn't I?" Santana called from the bar.

"Yeah, and the next morning I found you asleep on the hood of one of your cars," Holly replied with an incredulous laugh, not even turning to face her.

"European cars have comfy bodywork," the brunette replied with a shrug. Holly just shook her head.

"You're gonna get that _a lot_," she said. Brittany nodded, not entirely sure whether the other blonde was being serious or not. "But I suppose you'll get used to it. And don't worry, I won't be going anywhere until I'm sure it's safe to leave you alone with her."

"_Hey!"_ Santana called. "I don't bite!"

"She does, actually," Holly said flatly. "Bad habit."

Again, Brittany was a little unsure of what to make of all this. Santana and Holly seemed to have such a comfortable – almost familial – chemistry, that they could have so easily been sisters. Or maybe mother and daughter. Or maybe…no; Brittany was positive Holly had never succumbed to Santana's charms. Having seen the brunette with that reporter at the party, Brittany was in no doubt as to Santana's leanings towards women. Whether it was exclusive or not, she couldn't be sure – Santana was often rumoured to be with so many different people by the media, that it was often hard to keep track. Still, Brittany was sure there was no way these two women could continue to be so comfortable around each other if something had happened in the past.

Unless it was still going on.

But…the woman at the party…

Confused, Brittany didn't even notice that Santana had re-joined them by the sofa, drink in hand and a sour expression on her face.

"You two gonna keep railing on me all morning, or can I actually get the tour started?" the brunette asked. Holly shook her head and smirked.

"There's about a million and one things waiting for your attention," she said, gesturing at a stack of papers sat neatly upon the coffee table. "But something tells me they won't be getting looked at for a while."

"You know it," Santana said, seemingly brightening up. She turned to Brittany. "Shall we?"

**~xxx~**

If Brittany had thought Santana's living room impressive, the rest of her house certainly matched. Almost every room was just as grand – even the bathrooms. In the space of an hour or so, Brittany had been shown a large dining room – which Santana claimed to never use, a fully-equipped gymnasium, a well-stocked library, a games room, and even an entire swimming pool with nearby jacuzzi and sauna – and that was only the inside of the building. Beyond it's walls, and with stunning ocean views over the cliff edge, were a pair of tennis courts, an even larger outside pool, and of course the helipad Brittany had passed on her way to the house.

But as incredible as the house and it's surroundings were, Brittany found most of her attention focussed on the woman that owned it. Santana moved around with an almost childlike glee; as though she herself was seeing it all for the first time. Brittany couldn't help but wonder if it was only when able to share it with someone else that Santana could enjoy all this; or perhaps this was simply the way she behaved most of the time. Despite the many videos and interviews with Santana that Brittany had viewed since their meeting two years ago, she still had no real idea of who this amazing woman really was. She knew the facts, and she knew the media image – but even after the short time she had spent with her in person, she could already tell there was far more to her than originally thought – now it was just a case of working out exactly what that was.

And from the sound of Santana's comments about Brittany staying at the house – even pointing out the door to her new room – she would have plenty of time to do just that.

"And there you have it," Santana said as they made their way back into the living room. "Home sweet home."

"It's amazing, Miss Lopez," Brittany replied.

"Oooookay, no," the brunette said bluntly, coming to a halt. "Call me Miss Lopez in private and I'll hurl something at your head."

"Oh…I'm sorry, Miss…I mean…Santana," Brittany stammered, worried she had upset the other woman. But instead, Santana just smiled and nodded.

"Wasn't so hard, was it?"

"There you are!" Holly called from the sofa. By now, she was surrounded by papers and had a laptop set up on the coffee table. Brittany and Santana turned just in time to see the older woman getting to her feet and approaching them. "Miss Lopez, you had a call from General Morshower regarding the meeting in New York on Thursday."

"What about it?" Santana asked, rolling her eyes at Brittany before heading over to Holly. The younger blonde wasn't entirely sure what was funny, but all the same she was thrilled that Santana was already making private jokes with her.

"Apparently they've had to move some of their training exercises up a week, so the meeting's going to have to be today," Holly explained. Santana nodded slowly, pondered for a moment, then turned to Brittany.

"Well then," she said with a smile. "Let's get going."

"The jet's already waiting," Holly continued, gathering some of her own belongings together. "Wheels-up in thirty minutes."

"How about 'wheels-up when Miss Lopez gets there'?" Santana offered, heading towards the stairs to her garage. She turned briefly, cocking her head to the side. "Seeing as it is…you know…_my_ jet."

Brittany watched the exchange with interest, turning her eyes back and forth between the two women. The fact that Holly still seemed to have to call her 'Miss Lopez', while Brittany had been given permission to call her by her first name in front of others, hadn't escaped her notice. Santana was treating her almost like a friend, and Brittany was loving every minute of it. The fact that she had just spent the last few hours alone with her idol seemed to be sinking in, and a smile slowly crept across her face. And then promptly vanished.

"Wait…did you say New York?" she asked. Holly looked up from her papers.

"That's right," the older woman replied simply. Brittany felt stupid for asking what was apparently a silly question, but couldn't help but remain curious – New York was on the other side of the country.

"Oh…" she murmured, slowly stepping closer and picking up her own bag. She knew Santana was known for her jet-setting lifestyle, but was this really happening? They were just going to jump onto a plane and fly off to the other side of the country at the drop of a hat?

"You guys ready yet?" Santana called. Brittany looked over and saw that the brunette had retrieved a leather jacket from her garage and was in the middle of putting it on.

"Oh you have _got_ to be kidding," Holly said flatly. "You are not wearing that to a meeting with the military."

"Hey, they're inconveniencing me," the Latina replied with a smirk, tucking her phone into her jeans pocket. "They can deal with it."

"If you say so," Holly said with a sigh, shaking her head and tucking her documents back into her bag. "Blaine's waiting out front."

"Yeah, cool, we'll meet you there," Santana said quickly, before turning to Brittany. "Shall we, Miss Pierce?"

And with that, she headed back down to the garage. Brittany stood for a moment, not quite sure what to do. Holly just gave an exasperated laugh and shook her head again.

"Oh just go with her," she chuckled. "She's showing off. Oh, and you might wanna tie your hair up – Miss Lopez isn't exactly known for her careful driving."

"Oh…okay," Brittany nodded, heading towards the stairs. She paused for a moment, and turned back to Holly. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," the older woman said with a smile, watching as Brittany disappeared from view with an amused expression. "Dear god Santana is so into her…"

**~xxx~**

If Brittany had enjoyed driving along the coastal road near Santana's house in her own car, it was nothing compared to being driven by Santana herself in one of the Latina's overpowered supercars. With the roof down, Santana's hair was flying all over the place, but in Brittany's opinion it only served to make her look more appealing. Everything about her was just irresistible; the clothes, the attitude, the lifestyle – it was no wonder Santana had no trouble picking up anyone she wanted. The blonde had to wonder why the other woman didn't seem to be interested in proper relationships, but even as she pondered it, the answer forming in her mind – Santana was young, attractive, and powerful – she couldn't blame her for enjoying herself.

"So…" Santana began, raising her voice over the wind. "You been to New York before?"

"Oh, no," Brittany replied, looking over at the other woman. She had a feeling she was being watched from behind Santana's sunglasses. "I always wanted to, but…yeah…"

"I'll have to take you there one weekend or something," the brunette suggested. "Today's gonna be a whistle-stop, if I can help it."

"Must be quite exciting," Brittany commented. "Getting to visit New York as a surprise."

"Are you kidding?" Santana scoffed. "It's a pain in the ass." She turned to the blonde, and slowly smiled. "But I guess it gives you a chance to see what's what."

"I'll try not to get in the way," the taller woman said. Santana laughed, and once again Brittany found herself worrying that she had said something stupid.

"Honey, that's what Holly's gonna be trying not to do," she chuckled. "You've got the job now, remember? Time to step up."

"But…I don't even know-"

"Just note down everything important General Morshower says," Santana instructed, cutting Brittany off. But the blonde still wasn't confident.

"But how do I know what's important?" she protested. "I bet I won't even know what you're talking about."

"You said you're a fan, right?" Santana asked, and Brittany nodded. "So can you tell me what a TX-13 thruster is?"

"That's…" Brittany racked her brain, thinking back to all those press conferences she had watched. Sitting alone in her room watching videos of the woman now sat beside her seemed so long ago, but slowly, something came to her. "…the new engines you want to put on the army's new spy satellite things, right?"

"Bingo," Santana replied, grinning widely. "See, I told you you could do it. Tell you what – just make notes on pretty much everything he says, and then we'll go over it later and I'll tell you what stuff is important." As they turned onto a straight section of road, Santana fully turned her head to face her passenger. "You're gonna be fine, Brittany."

"Thanks," the blonde replied, unable to hide her own smile. She couldn't believe she had managed to get that right; something about being around Santana seemed to bring out the best in her - everything felt somewhat clearer.

"Hey, you wanna take a shortcut?" Santana asked after a few minutes. Brittany gave her a curious look; something in Santana's voice told her the brunette was hoping she would say yes.

"Is it safe?" she asked. As far as she could tell, there were no turnings off the road in sight; just dirt and rocks on one side, and the ocean on the other.

"Based on Miss Lopez's previous 'shortcuts'," Quinn's voice echoed from the car's sound system. "I can guarantee a ninety-five percent chance of survival."

"Good enough for me," the brunette said with a small laugh, before jerking the wheel to one side and sending the car straight onto the rugged terrain beside it. Brittany let out a squeak when the car first made contact with the rough surface, but it quickly became clear that – likely through Santana's own ingenuity – the car was most certainly capable of traversing it safely.

Though when coupled with the sort of speeds Santana seemed to favour, Brittany wasn't sure.

**~xxx~**

By the time they reached the Lopez Industries Aeronautics Center, Brittany was grinning from ear to ear. She had been worried at first, but it quickly became apparent that Santana was just as good a driver as she thought she was. Despite the breakneck speed and rocky route they had taken, at no point had Brittany felt in any danger; it was most definitely the most exciting ride to work she had ever experienced.

Perhaps it was because of the adrenaline still running through her, but Brittany didn't even bat an eyelid as they drove straight onto the runway, bypassing any sort of security. Waiting for them was Santana's private jet – or at least one of them. Brittany had seen many pictures of it, but as with everything else she was experiencing today, seeing it for real was another thing entirely. For the most part, it looked like any other small passenger aircraft – but Brittany, with her knowledge of Santana's world, was quick to note the unusually shaped tail-fin and rather advanced-looking engines. As they stepped out of the car, she finally tore her eyes away from the jet and turned back to Santana.

"Wanna wait out here or get sat down?" the brunette asked, locking the car and stepping around it.

"Um…I don't mind," Brittany replied.

"Well, I want a drink, so…" Santana casually pointed to the steps leading up to the jet's open door, before moving past Brittany. The blonde followed, turning her attention to the plane once again. She wondered if eventually she would become used to this sort of thing, because at that moment, it still felt like the most amazing thing ever.

As they stepped into the shade of the aircraft, they were greeted by a man in a dark blue air force uniform. He smiled at Santana and shook her hand.

"Well well well," the brunette chuckled. "They dragged you into this too, Puckerman?"

"Yeah, guess they wanted someone to keep an eye on you," the man replied. "God knows why – this thing isn't even to do with the air force."

"Well I never thought they should have let you near those things anyway," Santana commented. "You can barely drive a car."

"Very funny," he muttered, before looking over her shoulder and spotting Brittany for the first time. "Oh, is this…?"

"New girl," Santana answered, smiling widely and removing her sunglasses. "Brittany, this is Pu-"

"Lieutenant Colonel Noah Puckerman," he cut in. Brittany had to wonder what Santana was going to call him, but decided it could wait.

"Brittany S Pierce," the blonde replied, shaking the man's outstretched hand. He had a firm grip, but a warm smile.

"So has Holly gone already, or…" he trailed off, but Santana shook her head.

"Nah, she's hanging around until Miss Pierce is settled," the Latina explained. "Not that she needs it, mind you." She turned to the other woman and smiled. "She's doing just fine."

"So is Holly coming with? I didn't see her w-" the man began, leaning round Brittany to look out onto the runway through the door. "…what the hell have you done to your car?"

"Oh come on it's not that ba-" Santana mirrored his actions and followed his gaze. "…okay, yeah, it's kinda dirty."

"And the back seats are full of sand," Brittany added, and to her great surprise, Santana gave her a playful shove.

"Not helping," she chuckled, before strolling down the aisle between the seats. "Come on, Britt, we've got a phone call to make."

"We do?" the blonde asked, following the other woman. Noah Puckerman just shook his head and headed down the steps onto the runway. Unlike most passenger planes, the seats in this jet were very spread out in here; it made sense, given that Santana was it's only primary user. The brunette flopped into a seat near the back, motioning for Brittany to do the same in the one opposite.

"When I was running a background check on you – super-hot cheerleading uniform, by the way – I made a rather interesting discovery," Santana explained, shifting slightly as she smirked. "Just how did you find out about the interview for your job?"

"Oh, I…uh…a friend told me about it," Brittany admitted. "He said he wasn't meant to be telling me, but…"

"Just how long have you known Kurt?" Santana asked. "Since high school?"

"That's right," Brittany nodded. "We were in glee club together."

"No shit," the brunette said, seeming surprised. "Small world, isn't it?"

"I thought it was really big…" Brittany murmured, before realising what Santana meant. "Oh, right…sorry…"

"Please stop apologising," the Latina insisted, before leaning her elbows upon the small table between them. "You know that boyfriend Kurt keeps mentioning but can't tell you anything about?"

"Yeah…?" Brittany was confused; just how much did Santana know about her? And just how long had she known Kurt? She knew he had been designing suits for her for a while, but he never really lingered on the subject for very long.

"You've met him," Santana said simply. "It's Blaine."

"_What?"_ Well that was a shock. "But…how…why did he never tell us?"

"Because of you," the brunette said with a shrug. "He was always talking about this friend of his – said friend being a fan of mine – who he didn't want to upset by showing just how closely linked he was to me."

"Please tell me he didn't tell you anything embarrassing," Brittany said, panic overtaking her. Santana had known about her all this time? Just how could they have had so many links to each other without her knowing?

"Oh no, nothing like that," the Latina clarified. "He didn't really say much at all, actually. Guess he thought he was being all subtle and covert, but…well…" She smiled widely again. "Here we are."

"Is he in trouble?" Brittany asked. "Because I don't want anything bad to happen because of me."

"Oh he's not in any trouble," Santana said quickly. "And neither are you. But…" Her smile turned somewhat wicked. "That doesn't mean we can't let him think so…"

"What are you going to do?" the blonde asked, frowning as Santana pulled her phone out. The other woman's dark eyes were twinkling, and Brittany would be lying if she said it didn't send something of a shiver down her spine.

"Like I said, we have a phone call to make," she repeated, tapping at the holographic screen with her thumb. She placed the phone down upon the table, and gave it one last tap. A few moments later, a voice emanated from it.

"_You've reached Kurt Hummel's office,"_ a female voice responded. "_Harmony speaking."_

"Yeah, hey," Santana greeted quickly. "Tell Mr Hummel that Santana Lopez needs to talk to him. Tell him it's urgent."

"_Of course, Miss Lopez,"_ the woman replied. "_One moment."_

"This is gonna be great," Santana whispered. There were a few moments of silence, before Kurt's voice answered.

"Good afternoon, Miss Lopez," he greeted politely. "What can I do for you?"

"Cut the crap, Hummel," the Latina snapped, making Brittany jump. The other woman sounded angry, but her smile was still in place. Immediately, Brittany caught on, and had to resist laughing as fear filled Kurt's voice.

"What…what's wrong?" he asked, already sounding terrified.

"We've had a very serious security breach at Lopez Industries and I have reason to believe that your girly ass is the culprit."

"But…I…Santana, please-"

"Don't you 'Santana' me," the brunette cut in. "You thought you could leak inside information from _my_ company and get away with it?"

"But-"

"I don't wanna hear it, ladypants." At that comment, Brittany had to cover her mouth to mask her laughter. She knew it was a cheap trick, but after all the tears she had shed over the past few days, it felt so good to be laughing again. "Now, I'm going to pass you over to my PA, who's going to give you all the details regarding the lawsuit I'm sending your way."

Santana nodded at Brittany, who took a deep breath, before leaning closer to the phone. "Mr Hummel?" she asked, forcing her voice to sound as serious as she could make it. "Can you hear me?"

"…yes…?" he whimpered. Quickly, Santana grabbed the phone, and began typing something out on it, before sliding it back to Brittany. She looked at the holographic display, and saw that the brunette had written her a script of sorts. She smiled appreciatively, before continuing.

"Due to the serious nature of this matter, Miss Lopez is of course keen to resolve it as soon as possible," she recited, keeping her tone as flat as possible. "You'll shortly be receiving all relevant paperwork relating to this matter, and will be required to respond within three working days. If you fail to acqui- …acquisess? …I can't say that word."

"Wait…oh my god, _Brittany?"_

"Oh crap, you didn't even get to the part where you say I want him sentenced to five years without skin cleanser," Santana whined, but Kurt ignored her.

"Brittany?" he repeated, sounding appropriately shocked. "Is that you?"

"Hi Kurt," the blonde replied, dropping back into her usual cheerful tone.

"Oh my god you scared me to death," he said, letting out a deep breath. "What are you doing with Santana Lopez?"

"…working?" Brittany replied, frowning. "What else would I be doing?"

"You mean she gave you the job?" Kurt asked, still sounding surprised.

"She earnt the job, jackass," Santana cut in. "Which is a good thing for you, otherwise this lawsuit would be real."

"Wait, you're serious?" the man continued. "She got the job?"

"Why so surprised?" the Latina asked, frowning up at Brittany. "You're the one that sent her my way."

"Well, yeah, but…" Kurt trailed off. "Nevermind. Congratulations, Brittany."

"Thank you," she replied, smiling again. "And sorry for scaring you."

"Don't apologise, Britt," Santana chuckled. "He deserved it."

"Oh god you're already a double-act," Kurt moaned. "What have I done?"

"Given me the best PA I could ask for," Santana replied, and Brittany definitely caught the serious tone in her voice. Her heart melted slightly at the words, and without thinking she reached forward and placed a hand over Santana's.

"Thank you…" she murmured, earning a wink from the other woman. Santana was about to say something, when she looked up over Brittany's shoulder.

"Anyway, we've gotta wrap this up now, Hummel," she said. "Our babysitter's here and she gets really pissy when I make prank calls."

Brittany turned in her seat, and saw Holly and Blaine approaching them from the front of the plane. She turned back to the phone and gave it a little wave. "Bye, Kurt," she said brightly.

"Yeah, see ya, Hummel," Santana said, before tapping the screen and slipping her phone back into her pocket. With that done, she looked back to Holly, who was now standing beside Brittany's seat. "What took you?"

"Gee, I don't know…" the older woman began, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe because your limousine – which you were meant to be in, by the way – isn't designed to go off-road?"

"And you wonder why I drive myself," the brunette chuckled, sliding out of her seat and getting to her feet. "Anyway, now that you're _finally_ here, let's get this bird in the sky."

"What were you two even doing?" Holly asked, looking between the two of them with a mixture of amusement and incredulity.

"Oh not much," Santana said with a shrug. "Making Blaine's boyfriend piss himself."

"Wait, what?"

All eyes turned to Blaine, and then at the exact same moment, Brittany and Santana burst into laughter.


End file.
